


Madeline

by chefke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Horcrux Hunting, Marauders' Era, Multi, Sad with a Happy Ending, Summer Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 02:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 59,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15086723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chefke/pseuds/chefke
Summary: Every action has a reaction. For the many vibrant characters in this story their reactions and choices they make will alter the very course of history, changing the timeline and leaving chaos in its wake. Lies and deception filter down from generation to generation and leaves the young ones today wondering what the hell happened at Hogwarts in the seventies.There are so many ships in here I don't think I could write them all. Dramione, Regulus Black/OC, SeverusxNarcissa, HarryxGinny, and so much more.Thank you to my beta MrsRen you are amazing and I could not have done this without you!  Also if you haven't checked out her work, you should it's amazing! I'm totally obsessed with her fic, Amorous.Also, all characters and other stuff belong to the amazing JK Rowling. I own the plot and typos.





	1. Chapter 1: Beached and Broken

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story was supposed to be a five chapter piece for the Strictly Dramione 'Summer lovin' fest, that kind of took on a life of it's own. The original storyline was for five chapters, nice and sweet. I currently have a 60 chapter beast that was so large my google drive made me chop it up into shorter stories.
> 
> As of now, this story will be told in four parts. The first part, conveniently the shortest, is the chapters 1-13 where Hermione and Draco meet in Romania. Chapter 14 to about 60 is going to go back in time to the Marauders era, this will be Part two. Part three, will resume with Draco and Hermione in their fifth year concealing their relationship as the timeline deviates from the Harry Potter books based on the events of Part 2. 
> 
> I am hoping people stick around long enough to read through this mammoth of a story. I know in the past, I have posted works as I have written the chapters but I would like to write out most of part 2 before I start posting. I am hoping that will ensure semi-regular updates in 2019.

#  **Chapter 1: Beached and Broken**

“In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines  
Lived twelve little girls in two straight lines  
In two straight lines they broke their bread  
And brushed their teeth and went to bed.  
They left the house at half past nine  
In two straight lines in rain or shine-  
The smallest one was Madeline.”  
  
― Ludwig Bemelmans, Madeline

* * *

 

* * *

 

Hermione Granger sat distractedly with a book resting on her knees, her sunglasses shielding her eyes from the July sun. It should have been the perfect day to run out into the water and splash about. At 82℉degrees it was hot enough that she wanted to rush into the cool blue waters but her mood was so far from the other happy teenagers frolicking on the beach she felt compelled to stay at the small cafe on the boardwalk. She was currently hidden under a large umbrella at a table she had purchased for the day.

If she was going to be miserable she was at least going to be miserable at one of the nicest beaches in Bulgaria. The Asparukavo Beach was most noted for its clean and tranquil beaches. She had spent the second half of her fourth year at Hogwarts begging her parents to take her to Bulgaria for the summer. They had only conceded once they found out there was a boy involved and she wasn’t on another magical museum trip. They had been equally excited when they found out there was a dentist conference for a new product line that was simply revolutionary to the field of Dental X-Rays. Her family was an odd sort.  

She had barely seen them at all the first day they got to Bulgaria. They had begged her to come to see the new X-ray machine and it’s keynote speakers but Hermione was to busy gluing her face to her boyfriend, Victor. Victor was… he was complicated. While Victor was certainly an enlightened fellow, his parents were not. His mother _hated_ Hermione and his father pretended she didn’t exist. Victor did have a ten-year-old sister who adored Hermione and Hermione she. Elena was a sweet thing that was obsessed with everything pink.

While the two girls couldn’t be any more different, they were in fact very much the same. Elena was a lover of books and animal rights. She fought with her parents constantly on blood status laws in their country and Elena had secretly confided in Hermione that she hoped one day to find a muggle to settle down with just to stick it to her parents. Hermione laughed and gave her directions to her parent’s conference. She was a spitfire, much like Hermione but she was also obsessed with pink and boys and anything to do with pop culture. Hermione wished she could be as normal as little Elena Rosa Krum.

Victor spent his late afternoons and evenings training for Quidditch and the entire mornings and early afternoons with Hermione. The two had barely more than a couple of kisses but Hermione spent all day pining for him when he wasn’t with her. She felt like one of her roommates at Hogwarts. She obsessed with what she wore and how she wore it. It had gotten so bad that her Mum had taken her shopping the day before they left for Bulgaria to purchase a more ‘relaxed’ look.

All in all the first week of July was coming to a brilliant close when Elena innocently suggested inviting her family to their home for dinner. Hermione and Victor had been saying their farewells to his family as they were leaving for lunch. The room that had been bustling with movement and chatter had gone silent in the second the suggestion had left Elena’s glossed lips.

“Who is Dr. Granger, Elena?”

Mr. Krum looked livid and Mrs. Krum looked mortified. She was having a luncheon of sorts with several of her friends who were now all giving her disgusted looks.

“Hermione’s father of course,” Elena responded with as much chipper and enthusiasm as she would talk about the latest music from muggle America. Hermione had learned way more than she ever planned to about Aerosmith and Madonna from Elena in the past week and during her visit to Hogwarts to watch the tasks. “Her parents are both successful Doctors in England. Did you not know that? You really should have asked. They’re fascinating people, Father.”

Mr. Krum’s face took on an odd reddish hue and Mrs. Krum looked as if she was struggling to breathe air in the temperature charmed controlled room. After her friend, a woman with an atrocious looking hat finished fanning the woman, she stuttered as she tried to produce a sentence of coherent thought. “Elena… dear… you have… spoken to these-”

“They are her parents, mother.” interrupted Victor. “I do not see the problem with Elena seeing her parents. We are set to have lunch with them tomorrow.” Hermione smiled shyly at Victor, his English had greatly improved over the year.

Her parents were thrilled to have lunch with Victor. Victor enjoyed their lack of magical sports knowledge and had made it his responsibility to educate them. Her mother had predictably, shown no interest in Quidditch but her father was obsessed. The two had even come up with new plays for the game while Hermione and her mother talked about her schooling and different random things.

“They are muggles!” his father spat.

“They are kind and compassionate Healers that you haven’t bothered to get to know.”

“Dr. Granger even got rid of my toothache that the Healer couldn’t!” piped up Elena.

Mrs. Krum put her dainty wrist to her forehead and dropped dramatically to a nearby chaise. She was wailing about muggles and diseases and her poor daughter.

Mr. Krum looked, if possible, even more furious. Hermione was revolted by their ignorance and intolerance but kept her face expressionless, she knew full and well that everything she did was going to be repeated and she didn’t want to give anyone a reason to say anything bad about her. Bulgarian reporters were no less pushy than British reporters but they did tell the truth. Hermione tried to avoid them as much as possible, which was hard when she spent most of her free time with Victor.

“I want her _out_ , Victor! She is poisoning your dear sestra!” the old man shouted. The argument quickly shifted into infuriated Bulgarian. Hermione, who spoke a little Russian, was able to pick up every seventh or eighth word. Even if she had not been able to understand bits of the language the volume and hand motions made it clear Hermione and her blood status was no longer welcome in the Krum household.

Hermione’s mobile buzzed in her pocket. Her parents had splurged and gotten her one for the summer, a good choice as it turned out. She flipped open her Motorola StarTEC and answered when she saw it was her mum.

“Hermione?”

“Yes.”

“You’re late. Your father and I were beginning to worry. Is everything alright?”

_No, Mum. I finally found a boy that liked me back and his bigotted family is ruining everything, including the lunch I am currently late for._ Hermione noticed the room had gone quiet as she began to formulate a response to her mother.

“Mum, everything is fine. I’m just running a bit late. I’ll see you soon.”

“You have the address, right? I don’t want you to get lost, sweetheart.”

“I won’t.”

“Say hello to Victor and his parents. Oh, and also that darling sister of his. Your father and I sense a fellow DDS in the making!” Her mum was chuckling as Hermione hung up their short call. She gently put her mobile back in her pocket and looked up to see the entire room staring at her. Victor was smiling, however, the rest of the room with the exception of Elena was awestruck.

“What… What is that contraption?” Mr. Krum jabbed a finger at her pocket. Hermione held back a smile. Funny, wizards treated Muggle technology the way muggles treated magic, with fear and trepidation.

“It’s called a mobile.” There was a short silence as the room stared at her warily.

“What does it do?” whispered one of the guests. She was eyeing Hermione’s pocket as if it might suddenly explode.

“It’s much like Floo, without the mess and hassle. Every mobile has a number and the mobile keeps a record of all the numbers I use. When someone wants to reach me, they just find the person’s name and mobile will call them. If they are busy I can leave a message and the person can pick it up later and call me back.” The room was stunned into silence.

“You know how to work one of these… things?” asked Mr. Krum. He was clearly impressed by Hermione’s rudimentary knowledge of her mobile phone.

“The basics. They come with instruction manuals. Most people don’t read them as everything is pretty much self-explanatory, but I do. I like reading.”

“How much do-” Mr. Krum was cut off by his irate wife.

“I will not have that child or her talking abomination in my home a moment longer. Victor escort her out!” Mrs. Krum turned and stalked out of the room.

Hermione felt her cheeks redden and had to use all of her willpower not to stare at her shoes in embarrassment. There was nothing wrong with her. She was just as magical as any other Witch or Wizard. They had no more right to magic than she.

She repeated this mantra in her head several times until she was calm. She leaned on her toes and kissed Victor on his cheek.

“Victor, it seems you have a family matter to attend to. I’m going to meet my parents for supper. We’ll meet again, tomorrow?” Victor nodded and escorted her out, apologizing profusely as they walked. Hermione waved him off with his promises to make it up to her the next day.

Hermione took a sip of her drink. That had been two days ago. Victor had since owled back her sweater that she left in his home. There was no note and there was no explanation as to his sudden absence. She wasn't stupid, she knew what the sweater meant. She had sobbed enough tears into the sweater for it to mean anything else. The Daily Prophets headline following him to tryouts out of the country only made it worse. Only made hundreds of questions swirl around her head.

That had been the first day, on the second her parents had taken the day off of the conference to spend the day with their daughter. Her mother took her to the movies and they ate as much ice cream as they could before they felt like they would puke. His father had repeatedly offered to give Victor crooked dentures as well as a false cavity. She hugged her parents content that she would always have her slice of happiness with her Granger family. She wrote to Ron and Harry telling them of her fun time in Bulgaria not mentioning Victor. Ginny picked up on it right away and sent back a book called, ‘101 Hexes for the Exes in Your Life.’ Hermione had already read it from front to back with her giggling mother.

Her mother had finally convinced her to put down the ‘magical genitalia decapitation book,’ and read some good old trashy romance novels. Hermione looked out longingly to the beach she and Victor were supposed to be enjoying. Instead, she was forcing herself to be content reading, 'Katherine’s Midnight Visitor’ on the boardwalk while nursing a very freshly broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that British people use the metric system, but I'm from the USA and we use the imperial system. I know it's not entirely accurate but when measuring things I am going to use feet and inches.


	2. Chapter 2: Hiding in Plain Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco summer is not going how he wants and it's only about to get worse.
> 
> Thank you to my amazing beta, Mrswren!

#  **Chapter 2: Hiding in Plain Sight**

 

Draco sat on a custom velour chaise with his feet up on a matching coffee table. The paisley red and green hues reminded him of Christmas, which reminded him of home, which made him physically sick. There was an actual psychopath in his home. He was torturing and murdering people in his living room, the room he played as a child, all because of the Witches and Wizards parentage. Draco's mother had taken him on a 'vacation' once the Dark Lord had started filleting people on their dinner table, during dinner.

Draco had choked on the meat he had been eating and threw up all over the table. His mother had discreetly cleaned his mess and excused them from the table. That night his parents had the first row he had ever witnessed them having. The next morning the two were portkey bound for Bucharest to visit an old friend of his mother's, leaving his livid father behind.

So far, it had been a pleasant trip so far. They were in a Muggle populated area so he was forced to wear bloody Muggle clothes. There were no Witches or Wizards who stared or gawked at him. He was generally ignored and not treated like he was about to murder someone's children, so that was nice….

The first couple of days were spent just relaxing with his mother, however, she soon grew bored and began to shop. Her favorite hobby if Draco was being honest. The Dark Lord's relocation to their home had caused her to cancel many of her favorite social gatherings and clubs and she was not happy about her hard-earned social life crumbling before her eyes. Draco watched his mother take her frustrations out on their Gringotts account while he retreated into books and studies that Severus had given him at the end of the school year along with the good advice to keep his nose down and blend in with the walls. Advice his actual father had not even bothered giving him.

The Pureblood heir swung his long legs over the chaise and picked up the book he had discarded earlier. He was scared. Hell, he was bloody terrified. He had voiced these concerns to Severus and his godfather had winced and warned him that things were only going to get infinitely worse. Draco tried his hardest to concentrate on the coloring of spells and their meanings but his mind was only serving to distract him. He stood up and began to pace the small study he had been given to do school work. He had yet to meet his mother's friend and he had growing suspicion that whoever he or she was, it was someone the Dark Lord would not approve of.

Draco had found several Muggle things about the house and several books belonging to the Prince family line before his mother had hidden anything that could aid in his discovery of the real owner's identity. There were two doors on the second floor of the villa that was locked that no charm or  _Bombarda Maxima_  would open. He knew there was a basement but he could find no door or access point to gain entrance.

The overall style and character of the house were not personalized. Draco found it to be reminiscent of the neighborhood and country they were in. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was that there were no paintings or photographs anywhere in the home. There was plenty of ceiling to floor windows but not a single muggle or wizarding photograph or painting. All of the statues were abstracts and the decor was mainly potted plants. The balcony on the second floor housed an impressive selection of international varieties of aconite. After his mother insisted they would be staying through August, Draco began to research the Wolfsbane potion and work on brewing it. He was planning on putting it in stasis when he was done and giving it to Severus at the start of the term. Some extra credit should finally put him above Granger's test scores.

Having a father on the board of your school meant that your scores always had to perfect. Lucius Malfoy knew the school's educational standing and would not stand for the embarrassment of a below outstandingly graded son. The majority of his summers were spent with tutors studying for the next term and cultivating relationships with the proper families. Having connections meant everything to the Malfoys, after all. It was exhausting.

His friends were all the same. Crabbe and Goyle usually spent the time allotted to them with free tutoring from Draco. Most people assumed Crabbe and Goyle followed him because of politics when in reality it was fierce loyalty. Draco had been helping his two roommates pass classes since first year when they had expressed their fear of failing out of Hogwarts on the train ride to Hogsmeade.

These days Blaise and Theo had their noses stuck up foreign witches skirts and could speak of little else. Prior to that, they were obsessed with Wizengamot trials and politics. Two things Draco abhorred. He had been close to Pansy until the end of their third year. She had fancied herself in love with Draco and he had been studiously avoiding her since.

Millicent was always good for a conversation about Quidditch or a study partner. She had dreamed of playing Quidditch since she was a little girl, but her parents wouldn't allow her. They were convinced she would never marry if men saw her as one of the boys and Pansy agreed with them. She also liked to point out that her physique was closest to Crabbe than Pansy or Astoria's. Millie usually stormed out of the dorm and ran laps around the Quidditch pitch with either Crabbe or Goyle to keep her miserable company.

Starting their second year, Draco would play a round of intense Quidditch with her every year for her birthday and as her Christmas gift as well. The first year he had asked Severus for permission slips for himself and Millie to go to the Quidditch pitch after dark had raised his godfather's eyebrows into his hairline. After a lengthy explanation as to why a second-year boy needed alone time with a second-year girl and uncomfortably long chat from his godfather about birds and bees, he had been given the permission each year without a fuss.

Sophia Roper was a terribly shy girl that barely left the dorm she shared with the other girls. Pansy had mentioned multiple times that she was homesick and cried every night. Daphne Greengrass was family and obsessed with the art of healing.. She wanted to be known for her reputation as a Healer. Blaise liked to point out that there was slim to none chance that her parents would ever allow her to be anything other than a housewife. Pity, she hadn't been sorted in Ravenclaw. Her parents would have written her off and let her pursue her dream.

Tracey Davis was always there to help anyone with their homework, be it a classmate in a different house or a first year. She had never been heckled for helping other students from other houses because she had helped most of the Slytherin house at some point. Draco knew that Severus had tried to discourage her on several occasions but she had not heeded her warnings. Severus was worried she would draw the wrong kind of attention and given what Draco had seen the Dark Lord do to blood traitors he worried for Tracey and her need to help others.

Reminding himself of the Dark Lord when they had left the UK to avoid him soured his mood to the point that reading no longer helped. After a short swim in the pool he became restless. It was only eleven. He had finished his homework already and was halfway through his potions work for the upcoming year. After checking on his Wolfsbane potion he decided he wanted to head out. He wanted to see things, to go places! After leaving a note for his mother on the study desk, he trudged on his Muggle clothes, feeling much like he was playing dress up and headed outside to discover Romania.

Draco walked slowly through the Romanian version of Diagon Alley unimpressed with their selection. He wanted a few things to help his potion brewing and no one had it and when he asked for it they made derogatory comments about rich children and their purchasing habits. Draco walked up and down the vendors very aware that he was sneering at the owners of said vendors. He was almost at the end of the unimpressive line when he saw a small white gold bracelet with Quidditch charms on it. He picked it up experimentally and cast several charms to ensure its authenticity. He purchased it without thinking and kept walking. Millie would love this. It was feminine and-

Jewelry.

He couldn't buy a girl jewelry unless he had express permission from his father and unless he was courting her for marriage. He fingered the bracelet in his robes mournfully. Maybe he could get someone else to gift it to her? Maybe he could post it to her anonymously? His ideas were shot down one by one as he realized that the charms were personalized and she would have known it was from Draco. She also needed to be able to explain such a nice bracelet to her parents. While Millie wasn't poor, she definitely could not afford the bracelet he had just so carelessly purchased.

Draco hurried back to the front of the alley if he hurried he would make it back home before his mother did. He was so immersed in his thoughts about Millie's bracelet, he didn't see a hand fly out of a dark corner between two stalls until it had already yanked him into dark, narrow side street. The bright afternoon light was gone immediately and Draco was face to face with an old crone with only three yellow crooked teeth.

"Malfoy." he rasped. Draco startled backward fumbling for his wand.

"I don't-" Draco's wand dropped to the floor with a clatter, utterly useless next to his feet.

"DON'T LIE TO ME BOY! YOUR FATHER BETRAYED US ALL! HE SOLD US ALL TO THE OATH BREAKERS AND BLOOD TRAITORS!" Draco flattened himself against the wall as the Wizard spewed spit and venom in his face. He whipped out his wand and began to wave it in front of his face. Draco could feel the blood drain from his face. This man was unhinged. This man was unhinged and waving a wand at him. His wand was on the floor. His wand was on the bloody floor. Shite. Shite. Shite.

"THE DEATH TO THE LOT OF YOU I SAY!" Draco wondered why no one outside this dark alcove had heard the man yelling. The man's waving got more frantic as he shouted obscenities that made little to no sense.

"Long for the bottoms. Crucio. The cup or the Snake. The death of the snake. The locket. Where is the locket? WHERE IS THE LOCKET?"

"I don't know what locket you're talking about!"

"What's in your pocket? Show me your pocket!" Draco showed him the bracelet and after he grunted angrily Draco shoved the bracelet back into the safety of his trousers.

"The Locket. The locket. WHERE IS THE LOCKET?" He advanced on Draco without warning until his wand tip was under his throat. His rotting breath making Draco want to wretch.

"I don't know", he whispered. The man's eyes focused for a moment and Draco could have sworn there was recognition in his familiar grey eyes. Deciding to go for the chance of the man having some semblance of sanity Draco spoke again with as much confidence as he could muster.

"Listen, you seem to be having a rough day. I've got a pocketful of galleons that will help you get on your feet. Sons shouldn't suffer the sins of their fathers, right?" Especially when your father enslaved himself and his family to a crazy person's cult.

Whatever he said was the wrong thing to say because the man's eyes turned wild and dark instantly. "So like your father, are you? Going to shit on the world and watch it burn? Going to send my brother to Azkaban while you sit at home on your mountains of GALLEONS?"

Draco dropped and made to scrambled for his wand. He bet Potter and his friends never got into this trouble. Their parents hadn't thrown anyone into Azkaban.

"AV-" the crazed man began to scream just as Draco's fingers closed around his wand. Now what? What the bloody hell was he supposed to do against a crazed adult wizard? He hadn't even taken his O.W.L.'s yet! As he panicked he thought of what every student in his year would do. Granger could probably bloody apparate already. He thought bitterly. It was the last thought he had before his feet were yanked out from under him and he screamed in terror and then everything went black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the roommates are actual roommates from Pottermore and HP Wiki. I can provide links if you would like.


	3. Chapter 3: Hospitals and Muggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione arrive at the hospital after the surprise at the beach.
> 
> Thank you to my beta mrswren, seriously woman you have super eyes!

#  **Chapter 3: Hospitals and Muggles**

 

Hermione was attempting to fish a cherry out of the bottom of her glass. Her sandal clad feet were crossed daintily on the floor, her blue sundress fluttering around her ankles. The waiter had been keeping her with a full supply of drinks all day. Her parents had gone back out to the conference at her request. Today was one of the most pivotal parts of the convention and she didn’t want them to miss it. Her parents had set her up that morning at her cozy niche on the boardwalk and then hurried into their cab towards the Crescent Conventions Center.

She cheered in triumph when she finally got the cherry out and plopped it into her mouth. She deserved a prize for her hard effort, she mused. Something big and wrapped with a bow, or no bow. Maybe a spell book? Or that history book on Slytherin mythology and famous Muggleborns that were sorted into the house of serpents. She had seen it in Flourish and Blotts but was too embarrassed to actually purchase it with the Weasley’s last year when she had gone. She was musing what Draco Malfoy’s reaction would be to a Muggleborn sorted into his coveted house when a loud bang of gun ricocheted through her ears. 

Instinctually, Hermione dropped to the floor, or at least she thought she did until she felt something heavy drop on top of her and way her down. Hermione knocked over the table and dragged the heavy body on top of her down with her. Her grandfather had served in Royal Majesty’s Navy and had taught her a thing or two about guns and emergency situations. Like the fact that the stranger on top of her was leaking a thick substance that Hermione knew to be blood. She flipped the bloodied stranger off of her back and pulled out her mobile dialing 150 for the Bulgarian Paramedics.

“Zdrasti. Moʐyetye li da mi pomognyetye?”

“Hello. My name is Hermione Granger. I have a gunshot wound victim at the Asparukavo Beach. I am at the Oospekyah Cafe.”

“Oospekyah?”

“Yes.”

“We send ambulance.”

“Thank you Ma’am.” Hermione hung up and turned to have her first proper good look at the bleeding victim that had likely saved her life in the shooting. He was face down on the pavement his pebbled blue polo and white shorts stained with blood. She had to use all of her limited strength to flip him over. As she heaved she noticed that his grey trainers were streaked with red. That was the last thought in her mind before he flipped him over and she froze in shock.

Underneath dirt and blood was a pale faced, white haired Draco Malfoy. Seeing her schoolyard bully’s bloodied face and now being covered in his blood as well, Hermione did the only thing her voice would allow her to. She screamed.

“Pomosht! Pomosht!” Hermione screamed the Bulgarian word for help over and over until she felt a pair of strong arms lift her off of  Malfoy. She had at some point been holding a compress, fashioned as her shawlover his arm that was currently the main source for the majority of his bleeding. 

“Hermione! Hermione! You need to calm down! You need to back away so the paramedics can help this boy!” Hermione’s father was gripping her arms attempting to calm his hysterical daughter.

“Dad?” Her eyes widened with recognition once she realized the arms holding her belonged to her father. There was shouting all around her in fast and fluid Bulgarian. She was too dizzy to understand most of it. 

“Hermione, honey are you hurt?”

“No, just-”

“Oh thank god-” her father exhaled hugging his daughter close. Hermione looked over his shoulder in time to see them loading Draco into a ambulance. 

“No!” She screamed. Her father held her back as she attempted to run towards the boy who she had punched in the face two years prior.

“Hermione, love,  they need to help the boy. They’re looking for his parents now.” her mother had just arrived and had bent down on the floor to join in their family hug. “You scared us honey. We heard about a shooting and we feared the worst. Your father-”

“Mum, I know him from school. He doesn’t have any family here. I think he got splinched. You, know he apparated wrongly.” Her parents exchanged a concerned look. Her mother stood swiftly and rushed after the paramedics as they were closing the ambulance with an unconscious Draco inside. After several seconds of frustrated hand movements they opened the doors again to allow her mother inside.

“Can you stand Hermione?” Hermione nodded. “We’re going to go to the rental car. Your Mum is going to call with the exact hospital they took him to and we’re going to get you checked out for a concussion. Okay? Can you do that for me, honey?”

Hermione nodded mutely as her dad gently pushed her towards their light blue rental car. He pulled out of the spot as her Mum called with directions to the hospital. He nodded as he took the directions and then hung up.

“Sweetie, your seatbelt.” Hermione pulled the seatbelt over her chest. A sharp pain radiated in her collarbone as she reached over, she inhaled sharply earning a concerned look from her dad.

“Looks like X-rays are in order for you as well.”

Her father wove in and out of traffic until they got to a bright orange sign that said EMERGENCY ROOM. Her father helped her into the entrance and sat her down before rushing to the front desk. Hermione’s head felt heavy and she felt her eyelids droop. As she fell she remembered when Draco had been thrown across her table her head had hit the floor pretty hard. 

“Crap.” And then everything went dark.

 

Draco woke up screaming. He could feel hands restraining him and a bright light in his eyes. He continued to scream, terrified of the crazy man with grey eyes who was trying to murder him.

“Please. Please calm down, sir. You’ve been in an accident. We’re here to help you.” Draco looked into the eyes of the face in front of him to find not deranged grey, but a murky warm brown. She was wearing a suit with floral shirt underneath. There was a Muggle standing over him. A real Muggle.

He swirled around, terrified. Where the bloody hell was he? There were people staring at him wearing white trousers and tunics, more Muggles?. He began to panic. Was he in the Janus Thickey ward? Had the grey eyed man cursed him until his mind gave out?

The woman muttered something that sounded like slavic to one of the white clothed men that was surrounding him. The male shook his head and responded with a resounding no.

“Sir, he’s just woken up in a strange place and he’s terrified. My daughter is a classmate of his. Allow me to calm him while you wait outside. It will only be a moment or two.” Draco looked at the hunking man. He had grey eyes. He shrunk back into the cot, he could hear a rattling sound but he wasn’t sure where it was coming from.

“You’re scaring him!  _ Leave _ !” The room emptied immediately. The woman fussed over him like a house elf would. She tucked his bed sheet in and checked his forehead with the back of her hand.”

“Hello. My name is Doctor Granger. Doctor means I am a Healer in the... Muggle world. You were in an accident and my daughter found you. She says you are in the same class in Hogwarts. Do you understand anything I am saying?” Draco was looking at the woman feeling as if someone had confunded him. Did she just say Granger? As in Hermione Granger? Potter’s bloody-

The door swung open and another white outfitted person came in.

“Ma’am your daughter has passed out in the waiting room. Your husband is with her. We understand if you would like to leave-”

“And leave him with no adult in a strange hospital in a strange country where he does not speak the language? I think not. My husband is more than capable of taking care of my daughter. Thank you very much. Now out!” The woman scampered out.

“Wretched Nurses. I swear they’re more unhelpful than usual in this country than in England.” Doctor Granger muttered. 

“What is a nurse?”

“They are trained aides for Doctors. They are  _ supposed _ to be the heights of patient care, however most insist they don’t get paid well enough to take care of their patients. You don’t join the medical field for pay. You join to help people.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance. 

Draco contemplated her response.“Where am I?”

“You’re in a hospital in Varna, Bulgaria. You appeared on the Asparukavo Beach bleeding. You had several lacerations and were treated on the way to the hospital. I know magic is faster but my husband and I don’t know how to reach the magical medical professionals. At least not in this country.” Draco nodded at her explanation. It still didn’t explain how he made it into another country and how he apparated at all. He hadn’t had a burst of unexplained magic since he was eight. 

“Would you like to tell me your name young man?” Draco fervently hoped Granger wasn’t the type to write home and cry to Mummy about the other children in school bullying her.

“Draco Malfoy.” he murmured. The look on her face changed the moment she said his name. Draco waited for the sneers and the looks to start and he clenched his eyes shut hoping his mounting migraine wouldn’t worsen with mother hen shouting. After a moment or two of silence he opened his eyes to see her doubled over with silent laughter. “Ummm… I’m sorry. Is there something amusing?”

“Oh, no. I… just… Oh, god, Hermione spent an entire summer in secret self defense lessons hoping to punch you the next time you bullied her. I had to ground my husband and my daughter when I received a letter from Professor McGonagall that she had punched you.” She wiped several tears from eyes.

“Yeah, well I still have the mark.” His fingers ghosted corner of his eye where a faint scar reminded him constantly of the accuracy of Granger’s right hook.

“As you should, bullying is a terrible thing to do. Especially since it’s generally something out of a person’s control. I’m going to assume it was because we aren’t magical?” Draco lowered his eyes to his fingers. How was this woman able to make him feel like a five year old caught with his fingers in the cookie jar?

“Don’t worry. Hermione and I don’t hold grudges. It’s my husband you should worry about.” as if on cue, because Draco’s life was now a bloody joke, an unconscious Hermione was wheeled in and set on a cot  on the right side of Draco. A tall man no older than his own father followed behind an agitated man in short white coat.

“White coat means Doctor. Doctor means Healer.” Dr. Granger muttered from where she was hovering over her daughter.

“And you’re sure we shouldn’t run an additional CT?”

“No, Doctor Granger. I think your daughter just experienced a local head trauma. She should be awake in forty to forty five minutes.”

“Thank you Dr. Pkelfnav. You have a good day.”

“And to you, Doctor and Doctor Granger. I’ll be back in an hour or two to check on my two patients.” The Healer… Doctor left with a flourish, sealing the door behind him. Draco suddenly felt very nervous when Doctor. Granger’s stern brown eyes met his.

“So, dear. Who is Hermione’s friend from Hogwarts that we have never heard about but saw fit to fracture her collarbone and give her a concussion?”

“That would be Draco Malfoy, dear. He is in the Slytherin house, remember?” Draco felt himself slither under his blankets like the proverbial snake he was. He was also suddenly very aware that he was in another country and none of the Muggles knew who he was. His parents had no idea where he was and he could disappear and no one would ever find him.

"Yes. Yes I believe do.” Her father’s eyes were dark and menacing. Draco breathed in for what he feared would be the last time.


	4. Chapter 4: Dentures and Cavities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco's trip to the hospital part II. 
> 
> Thank you to my beta mrswren! Not sure how this 5k story turned out this big but thank you mrswren for staying on the ride this long!

#  **Chapter 4: Dentures and Cavities**

 

“Just one cavity?”

“I’m warning you!”

“But-”

“Sweetie, why don’t you go get us something to eat and maybe some coffee for the three conscious occupants of this room? I’ll keep an eye on the kids.” Hermione’s mother eyed her father sternly as he slumped out of the room. They had been arguing while Granger slumbered peacefully, unaware of the mounting tension in the room.

“What’s a cavity?” Draco asked once the door had closed behind Mister Granger.

Missus Granger rubbed her temples.

“Ask Hermione to explain it to you, please. I have a headache.”

It had been over an hour since she was brought into the room and the smartest Witch of their year had yet to wake up. Draco was starting to feel guilty, as his accidental Apparition on top of her had caused her concussion. Granger’s father did not like the idea of anyone appearing on top of his daughter and he had made it known multiple times. While Draco was completely sure, he was almost positive it was sexual reference, and that Mister Granger would likely inflict serious damage should Draco entertain a relationship with his daughter.

The very idea was laughable.

Draco stared up at the ceiling as Missus Granger busied herself. The odd woman kept putting two fingers on his wrist and murmuring to herself. Then she would busy herself with tucking in his sheets and putting her dainty palm on his forehead.

“Draco dear, if you would like to rest do it now. We are probably going to have to move to a noisier area in several hours. Best get your rest now.”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. Was he safe to sleep? What harm could a couple of Muggles do while he was sleeping? Images of death and destruction from his childhood lessons on Muggles surfaced in his mind and suddenly he felt very much awake. Missus Granger placed a cool hand on his cheek.

“You’re burning up dear.” She leaned over his head and pulled a red string hanging above his bed. The string emitted a shrill noise and a nurse walked in immediately.

“Ma’am?”

“He’s showing signs of fever. He needs antibiotics and possibly Temazepam?”

The nurse nodded and responded, in stilted english that she was going to fetch the doctor. Moments later, not one but two doctors re-entered the room. One held a white cylinder light directly into his eyes, while the other was pressing around on his belly. Draco tried to keep a mask of indifference, but he was terrified. He tried to ignore his hands shaking as the doctors moved around him fetl different parts of his skin on his face and torso. They were so gentle and clinical Draco barely thought about the fact that he should have felt violated on some level.

He was distracted from their prodding when a small hand slipped into his.

“It’s okay, Draco. They’re just checking for an infection.” Hermione Granger’s mother squeezed his hand. Draco’s Pureblood upbringing fought  to not take comfort from the female Muggle. As she continued to whisper words of support Draco doubted if his father had ever met a Muggle. He wondered if he had ever interacted with the humans that looks just like Witches and Wizards. All these people were missing was magic and they would have been equals.

A sharp pain in his side caused him to gasp and the doctors began to speak to each other in what he guessed was rapid Bulgarian. There were several more shouts in their native tongue and the door swung open to admit even more staff. He tried not to think about it as he squeezed Missus Granger’s hand back, his nerves beginning to overcome his sense.

“Whats-” Draco was cut off by a stern faced nurse coming over and forcefully pushing Missus Granger away.

The room was a flurry of movement as Missus Granger argued with the brusque nurse. The nurse handed her a piece of  parchment and what color was in her face went pale. Missus Granger stepped back, a fearful look on her face as she kept her eyes firmly on her daughter’s schoolyard bully. She was saying things in Bulgarian to the doctors who were responding rapidly.

One of the nurses on each side of his bed leaned over and there was loud clicking noise followed by a raised bar on either sides of his bed. The doctors and nurses all crowded around the bed each one gripping onto the bar.

All at once, the bed began to move and Draco protested loudly. Missus Granger was there immediately squeezing his hand and whispering words of assurances. She was saying confusing things that Draco didn’t understand.

“...minimally invasive… surgery… anesthesia… Draco dear, do you have any allergies? Draco?”

Two of the bevy of nurses holding onto the bar on his bed let go and disappeared from his line of vision. His head bounced uncomfortably on the pillow as they approached the doors of the room. Upon remembering Muggles didn’t have magic, he panicked, bracing for impact. The impact never came as the two nurses held the door open.

Mister Granger was standing balancing three cups of coffee whilst simultaneously being restrained by the Hospital staff.  Missus Granger held a hand out to him and he stopped his pushing immediately.

“I’m following them to O.R. Four, dear. Go, keep an eye on Hermione.” As they turned Draco saw him scurry into his vacated hospital room.

“Missus Granger what’s going on?”

“There’s an infection because there is something inside your body.”

“The knife-” he was about to tell her about the mugging when they entered through a set of large double doors. One of the doctors asked Missus Granger if she was ‘scrubbing’ and Draco was a little bit more terrified as to what the bloody hell was going on.

“No, thank you but the anesthesiologist can work in Pre-Op before he goes in. I want to stay with him until he’s under.”

Under what? Where was he going? He heard a rumor the muggles had trains underground, maybe they were going to a train? He should ask for trousers if they were going somewhere. He wasn’t nearly decent in the itchy hospital gown.

One of the nurses reappeared with a long needle. He stiffened remembering when the bloody Hippogriff scratched him and Madam Pomfrey had given him a needle since she had no potions on hand. Father had been enraged and Draco had felt the tiniest of pity when they woman was given a full performance review by the Hogwarts Board of Trustees.

“Draco, you’re going to feel a little pinch and then you’re going to fall asleep. I’ll be with you the whole time. Okay?” Missus Granger squeezed his left arm just as the nurse inserted the needle into his right elbow. Draco turned to complain to Missus Granger but his tongue was very heavy, as well as his limbs.

Draco heard someone counting behind him. Everything was going dark as he struggled to stay awake. He was vaguely aware that Missus Granger was rubbing his arm comfortingly as he fought to remain conscious.

“It’s okay, Draco. Let go. I’ll be right here the whole time.” With Missus Granger comforting hand on his arm, he let go. The world faded around him as he slipped into a dark pool of utter blackness.

 

Hermione woke groggily to arguing above her head. Her parents were furious.

“She never told us about any of this! Yes, well at least we got to hear about it from someone in her _community_ before she lied to us about that too.” Her father rarely used his angry voice. He was soft and quiet and preferred to spend his afternoons reading rather than talking. During mealtimes he would often communicate an entire conversation with a series of nods and looks with his eyes. It was an art, she was told. Hermione’s mother was the more loquacious one in the family. Ever since Hermione couldn’t share her knowledge she acquired throughout the year, she became quiet during functions with her parents friends and adopted families.

“Dear, her little friend has already explained the worsening climate of the wizarding world in Britain. Maybe we should just relocate? We can move our practice, take conversion tests, whatever we need to get away from all of this.”

“And where would Hermione go to school, you nincompoop?” Hermione knew her mother’s tell tale signs of losing her patience. Her father even after over twenty years of marriage, did not.

“A regular school, dear.”

“Really? And _how_ exactly do you expect to explain that she uses magic, dear?”

“We can always say she was bitten by a radioactive spider.”

Hermione resisted a chuckle at the thought of herself in a Spiderman costume. Even with her eyes closed, she knew her mother rolled her eyes. “I’m not amused.”

“I don’t want her going back to Hogwarts. You heard what the girl said!”

“Honey, surely you’re over-”

“She was shocked we knew about the Black fellow, even warned us not to talk about him to other wizards! Her friend’s godfather went to prison for twelve years for murdering thirteen people! Hermione said he was _away,_ she didn’t say he had broken out of prison after twelve years for murder. We knowingly allowed our daughter to hang around a CRIMINAL that was in an actual PRISON. She could have been killed! Hermione never would have told us about this and we would have knowingly let our daughter galavant around with a _mass murderer!_ ”

“I am very sure Professor McGonagall would not have let her be entertained by a criminal. Neither would Mrs. Weasley for that matter.”

“I still can’t believe you knew about this _Pureblood_ business.”

“I invited you to my monthly luncheon with Molly, dear. You didn’t want to come.”

“Yes, well her husband is strangely obsessive and given their son’s infatuation with our daughter, I’m not looking forward to having them as in laws one day.”

“Dear, Hermione thinks of Ron as a brother.” Her father huffed in response. Ron? Eew. Were her parents really talking about her and Ron getting married one day? He was… he was Ron! The mental image of snogging Ron made Hermione want to gag. Upon further inspection of her thoughts she was glad that Harry stimulated the same gag reflex when snogging was concerned. After Rita Skeeter’s horrible articles that year she had questioned she and Harry’s relationship. Only Ginny practically laughing in her face that they had the most platonic relationship she had ever seen calmed Hermione down.

“I don’t want her to be friends with Potter anymore.”

Hermione felt her heart sink in her chest. This was why she never told her parents about anything that happened at school. In her first year, she had almost been poisoned for Harry and Ron had been trampled in a game of barbaric Wizarding chess. In her second year she had been petrified by a basilisk and in third year she had turned back time and saved Harry’s godfather. The godfather, her dad was currently ready to kill with one of his scalpels. There was nothing in this universe that would get Hermione, to willingly tell her parents that a student had been murdered at a school sporting event and that the sociopath that was hunting her best friend was back in a corperal form and would likely be targeting herself as well Ron by association.

As much as they loved Harry they would never want her to be in harm's way because of her friend. They would sooner pack her up and disappear into an forest in Africa. They were her parents and they loved her and wanted her to be safe. That was how it was supposed to be, but Harry, Harry had _no one._ Most days Hermione spent more time worrying about Harry than herself. He did also have a racist sociopath obsessed with killing him constantly popping up.

“Don’t you dare! That poor boy is an orphan! His parents were murdered because his mother was like Hermione! What if Hermione was Lily Evans? What then?”

“It’s the reason I don’t want her to go back to that ruddy school! Especially not with-”

“You saw how terrified that poor boy was! Jesus, someone stabbed him!” Her mother finally lost her patience and raised her carefully controlled voice. There was an unfamiliar pained moan in the room and both of her parents left Hermione’s bedside and shuffled across the room.

“Is he still sleeping?” Her mother whispered.

“Yes. Poor thing looks miserable. I can’t even imagine how much pain he was in when he landed next to Hermione.”

“He was so frightened of us, I thought...”

“Well his parents would have brainwashed him that we, humans are going to chop him up and feed him to Hermione’s cat. I mean honestly, we’re not the ones who can blow up an entire room with our minds.”

“I worry about him. Elena said his father is one of this Dark Lord’s right handed men. She said he is likely to be recruited or killed. He’s just a child, dear.”

Elena was here? Hermione remembered that she had been spending time with one of her mum’s colleagues sons. If she was at the convention when her parents came looking for her then she would have known Hermione was in the hospital. It also made sense as Elena would have known about Sirius Black and her parents didn’t know many witches that would have filled them in while she was sleeping.

Hermione groaned as the need to pee overweight her curiosity at eavesdropping on her parents. Her shifting had alerted her parents and they stopped speaking immediately. Their collective footsteps drew closer to her bed and Hermione blinked her eyes dramatically.

“Mum? Dad? What happened?” Hermione opened her eyes, blinking for real as the harsh overhead light burned a literal hole in her retinas. Her parents had walked back to her bedside, their faces identical with relief at her waking up. She remembered guiltily that her paternal grandmother had not woken up one morning while her dad was in high school. She felt guilt that she made her parents worry longer than necessary and any anger or annoyance at their attempts to pull her out of school was doused.

“There was an accident dear. What do you remember?”

“Malfoy apparated on top of-”

“He’s asleep dear.” Hermione’s Mum pointed to a second cot in the corner of the room.

Draco Malfoy, Pureblood prince extraordinaire was hooked up to multiple machines. The hospital, that Hermione assumed they were in, was monitoring him closely. Hermione noted that the garish yellow striped hospital gown she was in was scratchy and wished idly for her comfy flannel pajamas.

“What happened to him?”

“A fragment of a blade was found close to his appendix. It tore a small hole but the surgeons were able to close and cauterize it before there was any severe internal bleeding.”

“Shite.”

“ _Hermione_!” Both of her parents admonished. Her father settled himself into the chair directly next to Hermione’s bed while her mum stood by her holding Hermione’s hand in her own.

“I need to get an owl to Professor Dumbledore and let him know that Draco is here.”  
“There’s no need Professor Dumbledore already knows. Elena came to see if you were okay. She heard about the news on the tele.”

“How the bloody hell did Elena get access to a tele?” she filed the bit about Dumbledore for later, planning to re-examine it later.

“Oh,” her mother smirked. “She made friends with Dr. Letrant’s son. You remember Dr. Letrant, don’t you? He’s from France. He helped you with your overbite dear.”

Hermione gasped. “Elena is spending time with a muggle?”

Her parents looked at her oddly and she realized how bad it sounded. When she was first accepted to Hogwarts she feared the wizarding world would separate her from her parents. Her comment made her seem like the one separating from the Muggle world from her world.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Mum! I swear! I just-”

“Expected her parents hate us because we aren’t magical like they are?” Her father asked gently.

Hermione nodded, shamefaced. It wasn’t her fault that _other_ people were bigoted idiots but she didn’t want her parents exposed to those types.. She wanted them to have the best possible experience in the Wizarding world.

“Elena is a very smart girl and she will make an amazing woman one day, regardless of whether or not she can do magic. Bastien is lucky to have her and she him.”

Hermione’s mother rarely scolded her properly. When she did Hermione felt like a four year old nicking chocolate from her mum’s secret stash in her night stand.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“There’s nothing to apologize to your father and I for, Hermione. We just don’t want you to forget where you came from. One day you are going to do great things in _your_ world and your father and I have made peace with the fact that we may never be able to witness it.”

“Even though that means you won’t take over our  clinic one day.” He piped up.

It had been their dream in uni to get married, open a clinic, have a child, and have that child take over said imaginary clinic. They had gotten all of their dreams fulfilled except their last one. As much as it pained Hermione to ruin their dream, she was _not_ a dentist. The work of a Healer was not cut out for her. While admired and respected the field of Healers, she wanted more. She wanted to help people in her way, but fixing laws and making changes at the route of the problem. The Ministry.

Hermione reached out and hugged both of her parents. “I’m sorry I can’t help you with your dreams. I love you guys, more than the whole world.”

Her mother laughed. “I know sweetheart. Now rest up, goodness knows you need it.”

Hermione snuggled under her hospital issued blanket trying to ignore the scratchiness of the hospital gown she was wearing. Her mum fussed and her father muttered quietly to himself, while reading her chart. She thought about their conversation and about Pureblood supremacy. Then she thought about Professor Dumbledore and how he’s always on the ball about where is students are and what they were doing. Imagining Professor Dumbledore keeping track of the comings and goings of the Weasley twins made her chuckle. He’d probably celebrate when they graduated.

“Mum, how did Professor Dumbledore know that Malfoy was here?”

“He doesn’t; his godfather was notified by Elena and his godfather assured her that he notified the Headmaster as well as Mr. Malfoy’s parents.”

“How does Elena know Malfoy?”

“She recognized Draco as soon as she walked in. He’s apparently some sort of prince in Magical circles. She left and returned having sent off the… Floo? Was it? Yes, Floo. Having sent a Floo to one of your other Professors. Snape, I believe. The one that teaches you magical chemistry.” She clicked her tongue in thought.

“Yes, Professor Snape is the Potions Professor. Why would Elena owl Professor Snape, does he know Malfoy’s godfather?”

“He apparently _is_ his Godfather.” Grumbled her dad. That was news to Hermione. Professor Snape certainly never treated Draco any differently than the rest of the students. Sure, he took less points from the Slytherins when they botched a potion, but Hermione assumed that was because he was the head of their house. Hermione never would have guessed Draco was his Godson.

It was also odd that the git who liked to brag about literally _everything_ , wouldn’t brag that a teacher was his godfather. Hermione racked her brain trying to remember if he had ever said anything about Professor Snape and preferential treatment, but she came up with nothing. Malfoy was directly behind her in top Potion scores but Hermione knew for a fact that those were hard earned.

While Seamus was blowing up cauldrons and Neville was melting them, one tended to take note who actually turned in their potions and if the colors and consistencies matched. Draco was one of the few students that lacked Professor Snape’s constant hovering. The only reason Hermione was even within a foot of the taciturn Professor was because she sat next to Harry and Ron. The two were constantly getting yelled at for goofing off or not following the Potions instructions.

Hermione threaded her fingers into her overprotective father’s. “Daddy, I’m fine. It was just a shock that’s all.”

“I know. You had a minor concussion sweetie. You are set to be released once the twenty-four hour period of monitoring is done. Also your Vitamin D levels are low.”

“Dad, everyone has low Vitamin D levels.” Hermione whined. Her urge to use the loo had finally overtaken her need to talk with her parents. She pulled off the coverlet her mother had so lovingly tucked her into and swung her feet over the bed.  “Also I have to pee, so scoot over.”

  


Draco woke up to a murderous itching right above his right wrist. He was uncomfortable and not in his bed at home. His pajamas were scratching his skin and there was a bright light shining over his closed eyes.

“Shh… he’s only just coming around. Not too loud. I’ll go fetch the doctor.” An older man’s voice whispered. He heard shoes scuffing on the floor. Was that linoleum? Draco shuddered.

The act of shuddering sent searing pain his lower right hand side of his stomach. His hands automatically moved to cover his stomach, when his right hand was pulled backwards. A quick sharp pain tore through the inner side of his elbow and he heard someone shout.

“He tore out his IV. He needs pain meds! Get the doctor!”

What the bloody hell was a doctor? His mind immediately answered it’s own question with Granger’s parents are doctors. At his continued confusion his mind supplied him with the image of two middle aged Muggles. The woman was caring and warm, while the man was overprotective and stern.

It took his mind several moments to play catch up. The Wizard in the alley had stabbed him. He had apparated using accidental magic and landed on Granger. He was in Bulgaria recovering in a Muggle hospital under the watchful eyes of Missus and Mister Granger. They were healers, if he remembered correctly-

“MALFOY!” He whipped his head around to see a matching set of dark swirling pools of dark rich chocolate eyes glaring at him. Was that Granger? Swotty, brown nosing Granger? Frizzy, fluff ball-

But her hair wasn’t frizzy was it? It was elegantly plaited into a braid down her shoulder. He could see her collar bone poking out of her hospital gown and the curve of her cleavage just below the hemline. How had he never noticed how tiny her hips were? Or that the slope of her lips were shaped like a cupids bow?

“MALFOY!” He snapped his head up staring at the beauty in his presence.

“You’re yanking out your IV, you git.”

  
  



	5. Chapter 5: The Importance of Seatbelts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione are discharged from the hospital and go home in a cabbie (british way of saying taxi.)
> 
> Thank you to my beta mrswren! You are amazing!!!

#  **Chapter 5: The Importance of Seatbelts**

 

Draco Malfoy was loopy on pain meds and it was damn hilarious. Hermione laughed as he looked around the room like it was a medical marvel. She supposed to him it was.

“Malfoy, will you stop yanking on your IV? You’re giving the nurses a heart attack.” 

Hermione slumped back against her pillows as Malfoy ceased his incessant yanking. Malfoy was staring straight into her eyes. It was unsettling. She focused her attention back on the book she was reading before Draco had interrupted her. To the casual observer it was a book on Geology and Astronomy. It was actually Standard Book of Spells: Year Six. Professor McGonagall had lent it to her at the end of the term. She had brought so many books with her she had completely forgotten about the one her professor sent her. Only her professor’s owl several weeks prior inquiring as to her liking of the book gave her the jump to start reading.

Her skin on her arm tingled the same way it did when she knew someone was staring at her. When she had first met Viktor in the library, he would sit and stare at her. At first she thought he was lost and then eventually she realized how much the Quidditch star liked her. She looked up to find Draco Malfoy staring unabashedly at her chest. She rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Seriously, it’s a bloody hospital gown. Get over-”

Draco Malfoy coughed as his face turned scarlet. It was a stark contrast against his pale skin and white features. 

Draco’s voice was low and husky and it startled her out of her musings about his light colored skin. “Granger… your umm… it’s a bit low…” 

Hermione looked down and scrambled for her shirt. Low, did not cover her dressing gown lack of coverage. The gown was large on her and she had bunched up the front with a spare pony. The pony must have come out while she was reading and the gown now barely covered her chest. He was probably staring at her exposed nipples while she was reading.  _ Why the bloody hell did he wait so long to say something and why did it have to be Draco bloody Malfoy? _

“Were you perving on me?” Her voice shook in fury and Draco Malfoy’s face dropped several shades of white.

“No… I-”

“When did you notice the top had fallen down?” Hermione demanded. Her embarrassment was quickly turning into a deep, smoldering rage. Malfoy continued stuttering, his eyes straying back to her chest. “When?!” She hissed.

“Before you started your book.” He murmured. 

That was at least ten minutes ago. She had read at least three chapters. Hermione closed her eyes and clenched her fists. She needed to calm down. She needed to regain composure. She needed-

“I’m going to curse him,” she mumbled to herself. Screw calming down. She felt violated. She began to grope around looking for her familiar vinewood. 

Draco pushed himself back into his pillows. He kept moving backwards as far back away from her as he could possibly get without leaving his bed.  

“Where’s my wand?! Where in the bloody hell is my  _ wand! _ ” Hermione snapped, fumbling around the hospital bed.

The door to their room slammed open as her parents walked in, their faces equally as shocked as the two nurses behind them. Her mother began to speak in rapid Russian to one of the nurses, who Hermione guessed was in charge. Hermione was catching several of the words but not all of them. The nurse wanted to call a psych evaluation. Hermione’s mother was trying to assure the nurse that she and Draco were not friends at all. She and Draco’s mum were schoolmates and she was keeping an eye on him for the summer. 

Hermione’s dad hurried over.“Kids, grab your stuff. We’re leaving before they try to force us to stay. Let’s go! Draco, take your IV with you. The nurse by the door will take it out.”

“Dad…” Hermione was ashamed of her outburst.

“We will talk about whatever  _ that _ was when we get home, Hermione Jean Granger.”

Hermione nodded and hung her head in shame. She was turning into Harry and Ron with their angsty mood swings. She hurried and gathered her things from the bed and the small table in the corner of the room. Her wand she noted, was nowhere to be found. Malfoy was keeping himself on the opposite side of the room at all times. When she moved right two steps, he moved left two steps. He was probably scared she was going to punch him again. The day after she overheard Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass talking about how Draco Malfoy had broken his nose practising Quidditch the night before.

Hermione waited until he had his back turned to her, she darted across the room and poked his shoulder. He yelped and whipped around. 

“Where  _ are _ our wands?” she hissed. “I wasn’t really going to hex you, you know.”

Malfoy looked at her incredulously, “It wouldn’t be the first time, Granger.”

“Seriously, Malfoy, the international statute of secrecy is-”

“Your father has them. He’s a nice bloke. When were you adopted?” Malfoy gave her the signature Malfoy smirk. Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“You’re a real slimy ferrety-”

“Really? Coming from the bucktooth wonder?”

“Oh, why don’t you slither back into the common room with your little mates?”

“Speaking of, where are Potty and Weasel? Not off enjoying themselves with out you are they?” Hermione felt her cheeks redden. She had been sending Harry and Ron numerous owls since summer break started. For every three letters she sent, she received one in return. Ginny was the only one who sent her regular owl, other than her study group at Hogwarts. She was feeling forgotten and Malfoy had unknowingly hit a sore spot.

“Enough, you two.” Their voices had raised loud enough that Hermione’s mother heard from the doorway. “Hermione, do you have all of your stuff? Good. Go change in the loo while Draco gathers his belongings.”

The two scurried off to her father’s amusement. Her mother had taken back up her rapid Russian with the nurse by the time Hermione was shutting the bathroom door. The bathroom was a hideous lime green with a cracked mirror and a toilet. There was a shower stall and despite how dirty Hermione felt and looked she decided to wait until she got home. She could see mold in the grout between the white and green hexagon tiles and there was a mysterious bluish substance around the drain.

She picked up the hand towel to find it was very much dirty and shoved it under the toilet. Stripping from her hospital gown she found the spot by her belly that was more or less clean and poured warm water and soap on it. She lathered it up, careful not to get the rest of her gown wet. She quickly washed her body, taking extra care with her armpits and neck. Feeling a little bit more refreshed she slipped on her sandals after inspecting that they were clean and free of sand or dirt. Her long blue sundress with yellow sunflowers was clean beside a smudge of dirt on one of the sunflowers. 

She lamented her lack of deodorant and conditioner while she put her hair up with the aid of a hairband. She had found a brand of hairbands that would actually maintain her mane of hair. She leaned on the sink while she inspected her hair in the mirror. Her eyes were wide and her messy bun was, thankfully, at the center of her head. She was about to pull away, when she paused.

Tucked away in a separate room, her doubts threatened to swallow her hole. Her eyes burned as she started at her reflection. 

Why were Harry and Ron not answering her letters? Were they busy? Had they found someone else to be part of their trio? Hermione remembered being terrified about going in front of the boggart in third year. What if it showed Harry and Ron without her? What if everyone saw just how insecure she was about the dynamics of their friendship? Her vision blurred as Hermione tried to keep the images from flooding her brain. The faceless nameless third person laughed at her while she was pushed to the ground. Harry had pushed her.

_ “We never liked you anyway.” Harry taunted from above her. _

_ “Yeah, we just needed your help with homework.” Ron sneered. “No one wants to be friends with a Mud-” _

Hermione pushed away from the mirror, tears running down her cheeks. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. Harry and Ron were friends. Her mind dug up her insecurities and threw them in her face, like the proverbial dirt so many Pureblood believed she was.

_ Like Viktor did?  _

Hermione put the toilet seat down and slumped down onto it. Hugging her shoulders tightly, she cried. She felt so confused sometimes, like she had one foot inside a doorway of mythical magical world and one foot holding her back with her family and her humanity. She supposed that was actually what she was doing. She was constantly being pulled back and forth. When she was in the Wizarding world she was happy but she missed her family. Her family that could never experience what she had. When she was home she felt like she was missing a limb, her magical limb. She wondered if it got easier as time went on? 

Looking up she saw her splotchy mess of a face reflected in the cracked mirror. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she took five deep breaths. She would owl Professor McGonagall when she got home. She had confided to Hermione in having a Muggle parent and knowing what a dentist was. The first time Hermione had asked her about Wizarding dental care was after a Transfiguration lesson. Professor McGonagall was one of Hermione’s mentors and Hermione took great care in making her proud. She was always available for help whenever Hermione needed it and Hermione was certain Professor McGonagall would have good advise for her.

Standing up from the toilet seat, Hermione went over to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. She forced a smile on her face and gathered her hospital gown from the floor where she had dropped it earlier. Taking several calming breaths, she exited the bathroom.

Draco was standing outside the loo shifting from foot to foot. Hermione’s smiled turned into a real one as she struggled not to laugh. Draco Malfoy, Pureblooded Prince of the century was wearing a Burton Albion football jersey. Instead of the black and yellow stripes making him look sallow, it made his pale skin looked tanned and his hair pop out. Her father’s old jersey clung to his frame and showed off a smattering of chest hair. Hermione’s only comfort was that Draco Malfoy looked visibly uncomfortable without robes covering his shoulders. 

Hermione stifled a giggle as she moved down to the jeans he was wearing. While the t-shirt belonged to her dad, the dark jeans he was wearing most certainly did not. The dark jeans had a black seam that guided his long legs down and into, what Hermione guessed was, Dragonhide shoes. He had somehow turned an old faded jersey her dad wore to the beach into a polished look that one would wear out to coffee. The outfit also didn’t not make him look undeniably unhandsome. 

“I got my IV out.” He said, brandishing his arm. “Your parents went to sign the… ummm.. Charge papers?”

“Discharge papers.”

“Right.”

“Right.”   


They were quiet for several moments and Hermione began to think that maybe the clothes wasn’t what was making him uncomfortable.

“Granger… I… I’m sorry if I made you ummm…” Malfoy’s cheeks were red as he stuttered. 

It took Hermione a full minute of gazing at him in confusion to realize he was trying to apologize. She also realized her eyes were nowhere near his face.

“I’ve been having a rough week. I would never… umm…” He mumbled, barely meeting her eyes. “Yeah, right. I didn’t mean to… you know…”

“Let’s just stop talking about it, Malfoy.”

“Agreed, Granger.”

Draco held the door open for her as they left the room and Hermione couldn’t help but think something very small had shifted between them.

  
  
  


Granger was prattling on about something called a  _ cabbie  _ once they made it outside the hospital. Draco was barely listening as her unnaturally fussy parents pushed them into the small brightly colored metal tube. They had been talking about the bloody thing since they had met up outside their hospital room. Draco wondered if he should mention he had been on the nightbus once with his godfather.

Draco had overheard his parents talking one night when Uncle Severus was over and the Night Bus has been brought up in conversation. He didn’t remember what the conversation had been about, but now that he was older, it was probably something derogatory. He had begged his Uncle Severus to tell him what it was. After several weeks of his persistent nagging his godfather gave in and told him about the Night Bus in hopes that he was forget about it.

Uncle Severus’s description, though lewd and terrible sounding, had done nothing to deter his interest in the purple monstrosity. If anything, it had made his obsession worse. Draco wanted to experience the Night Bus for himself. He was bright enough to realize his parents would never let him go, but his godfather just might. He spent two months begging and pleading his godfather to no avail. Finally he drew close to his birthday and when asked what he wanted he informed his parents he wanted to spend a whole day with Uncle Severus at Hogwarts with the possibility of a sleep over at his future school building. 

His parent’s thought he was just expressing academic excitement. His godfather, however, was not so easily fooled. It had taken a week of pleading after his parent’s got permission for Draco to spend a whole day with Uncle Severus at school, but his godfather had folded to his only godson’s cries. The night before his birthday, Uncle Severus disillusioned him and the two went for a joy ride around London on the Night Bus. 

The constant jolts and swerving was terrifying but also exhilarating. He had arrived at Hogwarts with Uncle Severus that evening and started his birthday Hogwarts trip with the Night Bus. The next morning Uncle Severus had let him fly around the Quidditch pitch. After all of the jerking around on the Night Bus, Draco was ready to be tossed around on a broom.

It was still his favorite birthday and he reminded his godfather every year when his birthday came around. Every year, a week before his birthday he sent his godfather a copy of the picture they had taken together on the quidditch pitch with a letter revisiting the memories and thanking him. He usually closed the letter by asking him if they could sit together for tea, the night before his birthday. It was a tradition and Draco always smiled at the thought of the two of them old and wrinkly and still talking about the time Uncle Severus took him on the Night Bus. He never needed gifts from his struggling uncle and godfather, his presence in Draco’s life was more than enough. 

“Draco put your seatbelt on. Oh, Hermione will you help him?” Hermione’s mother called from the row of seats in front of them. This automobile was definitely smaller than the Night Bus but it was bigger than any of the other muggle automobiles around them. There were only three rows. The first row was only for the driver, the second for Hermione’s parents, and the third housed himself and Granger. There were three seat ‘spaces’ and they each sat on opposite sides of the bench with the middle seat creating an invisible barrier between them. There was a small ledge next to the window next to him and an odd leather strap that dangled from the corner of the seat.

There was a loud clicking sound and Granger slid into the middle seat and began fiddling with something on the bench. Draco was trying not to squirm on the grey stained plastic covered seating when Hermione reached over him, blushing a furious red as she did so. Her hand hovered right above his crotch and Draco felt his cheeks heat up and his heart pound in his throat.

_ What in the bloody hell was a seatbelt and where was her hand going? _

“Could you pass the seatbelt Malfoy?”

“The what?” He croaked.

He heard her huff but he didn’t meet her eyes. It was as if someone had cast a permanent sticking charm on his eyes and he couldn’t move them from her tentative hand. She was hovering just above him and he had the odd urge to thrust his hips up into her cupped hand. 

_ Where the bloody hell did that thought come from? _

He squeezed his hands on the seat praying to Merlin his body wouldn’t do anything foolish. The jeans were so tight on him. They hadn’t been when Mr. Granger brought them for him to try on. He needed… He needed…

Granger’s hand went passed him and towards a thin piece of material with a buckle at the end. She snatched it and brought it back over him. Draco gulped nervously as she moved too slowly to have been unintentional. 

_ Why was she torturing him and why did he feel like he was being tortured at all? _

Draco breath hitched and he counted to five. It should have helped but the her hand her fingers brushed the top of his pants as she passed over them. Draco closed his eyes and tried not to groan.  _ What in the name of Merlin was going on? _

Hermione Granger’s fingers lightly trailed across the side of his hips. Draco looked down to see her face contorted in concentration. She was cursing under her breath as she fiddled with the  _ seatbelt _ . Her head was bent low, her forehead ghosting on his thigh. The riot of curls on her head that has escaped it’s hair tie, tumbled lightly onto his thigh. While she was busy he touched her hair with one of his fingers. It was soft and bouncy and smelled like a win after a Quidditch match. 

Draco snapped his fingers back to his sides and fought back his growing smile. He was finding this particular Muggle item and the entire process to apply it to be extremely inappropriate. He would definitely ask Uncle Severus about it when Hogwarts resumed and hopefully learn how to purchase one.

“Stupid thing is stuck. Malfoy, you need to scoot over.”

“Pardon?”

“Your seatbelt is jammed.”

“I still have no idea what a seatbelt is…” 

The heat was slowly leaving Draco’s face and he felt his hands becoming less clammy and replaced with a cold sweat. 

“Oh.” Granger looked up at the driver nervously and dropped her voice to a whisper. “It’s what Muggles use instead of a permanent sticking charm for their modes of transportation. It’s like a pants buckle, but it buckles you to the seat.”

“What if I need to get out of the seat?”

“You unbuckle it. I’ll show you. Now scoot closer to me.”

“You haven’t explained why I have to  _ scoot _ closer to you.” Draco tried not to let the distaste in his voice show, but he really wanted to sit on his side of the car bench.

“Each seat has its own seatbelt. Since yours is not working you need to move to the middle seat where it  _ is  _ working.”

“Oh.” 

Granger scrambled back to her seat and Draco watched as she pulled the belt over her thighs and clicked it into a buckle of sorts lying on the bench. He began to slide over to the middle seat. The uncomfortable tightness that was in his pants had returned with a vengeance. He prayed that it wouldn’t get worse as he closed the distance to Granger. 

He settled into the seat next to her, their shoulders bumping. She was holding the  _ seatbelt  _ in her hand this time. “Umm… I’m just need to click the… it’s on the other side….”

Granger held the piece of leather in her hand as she leaned her entire body over him. Her chest rubbed against his and he felt an actual pain at being so constrained in the trousers Doctor Granger had given him. She struggled to click the belt in and Draco began counting to five in his head as entire body began to react to a girl being practically in his lap.

_ Shit. Was he  _ **_attracted_ ** _ to Granger? There was no bleeding way. _

Draco felt as if ice water had been dumped on him. He was responding to Granger. Well, his body was responding to hers. Surely, he was not attracted to a Mud-

A loud torrent of cursing caused both of them to look up in alarm. The driver was cursing in his native tongue as another car swerved in front of them. The automobile screeched like a dying owl in its attempt to stop before hitting the other car. Granger, who had taken off her seatbelt to attach his own was not secured to the seat and in danger of being catapulted through the seats. 

Draco’s seeker reflexes caught Granger as she was thrown from him when their cabbie swerved. His right arm swam under her chest and gripped her shoulder tightly. Simultaneously his right arm went over her lower back side and between both hands he held her firmly in place on her lap as the car swerved and jerked. 

His arms circled her and spread her warmth throughout his body. It was as if he was feeding off of her while she was in his grasp. His body responded to the warmth by arching his back over her tense shoulders as if she was a quaffle and he the chaser. 

She must have succeeded in buckling the belt because instead of being thrown from the seat with her, he was yanked backwards by the belt around his waist. His grip tightened around her body as she huddled protectively in his lap. He thought he heard her gasp but he wasn’t sure as the cabbie was still cursing loudly in Bulgarian. 

Draco tried and failed miserably to not think about the slopes of her chest that his left arm was currently under. Using every ounce of strength he had not to grip her arse when his right palm was so close to its smoothness under flowing dress, was becoming more difficult than helping Crabbe and Goyle with potions. He was also very much aware that her chest was over his groin and given their current predicament she probably had a very good idea how much he was enjoying it.  _ How much longer could they stay like this? _

The prayers he  _ should _ have been sending to Merlin were answered when the automobile righted itself and began smooth driving. Neither of them had moved and if he was honest, he was scared to. His hand began to cramp and instead of letting her get up on her own, his brain decided it would be a good idea to help her right herself.

Sliding his left hand under her buttocks as painfully slow as regrowing bones with skele gro, he used his right hand on her chest to help him lift her up. He lifted her up and legs settled on either side of thighs. She was now sitting directly onto his lap. Her dress was long and flowy and while he wasn’t sure, he was pretty sure the only thing separating him from the thin barrier that was her knickers. 

“Ummm,” she murmured.

“Hmmm?” Draco meant to sound relatively more intelligent than  _ hmmm  _ while a pretty witch was straddling him, but his mind had gone blank as much as his skin had turned to fiendfyre. Her hands had gone to his shoulders and were gripping him as tightly as he imagine he had gripped her. 

The automobile went over a bump and he had to clamp his mouth shut to stop the moan that was elicited from him when he grinded against her. He wasn’t alone in the reaction as Granger’s eyes fluttered closed her mouth open in a large O. Her eyes snapped opened and he was surprised to find her usually warm brown eyes very dark. 

Granger’s right hand lifted from his shoulder and hovered just above his cheek. Her eyes were filled with doubt and her face tight with concentration. 

_ Touch me.  _ He wanted to shout. He wanted her to run her hands through his hair and press soft kisses down his neck. He wanted-

“Are you two alright back there?” Granger’s mum called without turning around. She was pointing out something to her husband in a book she was holding and the two had been chattering about it excitedly since they got into the automobile. Their low chatter had been completely drowned out by the driver’s cursing.

At the reminder of the adults that accompanied them, the two were instantly jolted out of their intense trance. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who completely forgot her parents were in the automobile. Granger eyes went wide and her features soured with disgust. She jerked her hands back as if she had been burned, whatever moment they had was gone as quickly and intensely as it had come. Scrambling back into her seat she settled herself in and buckled her seatbelt with a resounding click. 

“Yeah. We’re good, Mum.” Granger called back, her voice was hoarse as she stared resolutely  outside the window or anywhere he wasn’t. 

“Good thing they put on their seatbelts, yeah?” her father laughed. “We’re almost there!” 

In all honesty, the entire thing lasted no more than a blink of an eye but for Draco it felt like hours. The two sat bumping shoulders but their bodies were as far as they could possibly get to one another without jumping out of their designated seats. He really needed to get home and out of here. He was confused and had so many questions with no one to answer them.

He felt like something or someone was messing with his mind. The only reason he was assured there  _ wasn’t  _ someone in his mind was that he was a trained Occlumens. His mother had trained him from birth and Uncle Severus and his father tested him constantly. 

The fact still remained. He had been completely turned on by Granger and more than anything he had ever felt with Pansy when she pulled him into a broom closet for a snog. He couldn’t be attracted to a… to a Mudblood. To be helped by them was one thing, but to have a sexual interest? That was impossible. It wasn’t natural. It was-

Well it didn’t matter, now did it? Her look of disgust was all the information he needed to know and besides he was a Malfoy. He would never entertain a relationship of any sort with her kind.. 

The automobile stopped and they all piled out of the car. Granger refused to look at him. He was about to return the sentiments when his father’s scolding voice echoed in his mind. He was a Malfoy. He didn’t hide from anyone. Meeting her eyes as he disembarked from the car, he reminded himself who he was and the prestigious station he was born into. 

He had to repeat it to himself as the Grangers paid the fair and hurried into the hotel because while his mind was sound his heart was not.


	6. Chapter 6: Marks and Hotels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco go back to the hotel. Draco's godfather arrives at the hotel during supper.
> 
> Thank you to my amazing beta Mrswren who tirelessly edited this 7.4K monster of a chapter. You're the real hero in this story! xoxo

#  **Chapter 6: Marks in Hotels**

 

Hermione knew the clinical description of exactly what hyperventilating was: _healthy breathing occurs with a healthy balance between breathing in oxygen and breathing out carbon dioxide. You upset this balance when you hyperventilate by exhaling more than you inhale. This causes a rapid reduction in carbon dioxide in the body._

On a more personal note, Hermione had more experience than most adults she knew in the realm of hyperventilation and panic attacks. After going toe to toe with a mountain troll in a bathroom stall in her first year, she had become friends with the ever patient matron of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Madam Poppy Pomfrey.

The school’s nurse had found her during the first week of November shivering in a corner after breakfast. Hermione remembered sitting on her bookbag as her body shook in fear. She was a scared eleven year old who had an intense flashback of her Halloween evening after Parvati had offered her a cauldron cake at breakfast. Madam Pomfrey had found her huddled on the floor on her way out of breakfast. Madam Pomfrey spent the next several months teaching her calming techniques and how to overcome her completely rational phobia of trolls.

The MediWitch quickly became a close confidant and friend of Hermione’s even after Hermione officially became steady friends with Harry and Ron. Hermione happily popped by the Infirmary for their weekly chats, regardless of her exam or studying schedule. The nurse had an interest in Muggle medicine that Hermione was glad to cultivate, especially since she knew far too much on the subject given that both of her parents were dentists. Two weeks before Christmas break Hermione owled her parent’s and asked for their old medical school textbooks, which they happily turned over.

She gifted them to Madam Pomfrey who was so engrossed in her books, she barely had time to say thank you. Hermione thought it was the greatest gratitude she could ever receive. During the Triwizard Tournament, Madam Pomfrey had confessed to still having them safely tucked away in her office. After a bit of wheedling she also confessed to owning a much larger collection of Muggle medicine books. Hermione beamed with pride when she spoke of her interest in the subject and how she now used Muggle remedies along with Wizarding ones.

As a Pureblood,, it was extremely scandalous to not only be owning Muggle literature but also actively learning and practicing from it. Hermione appreciated her scholastic interest, as it often rivaled her own. They had started a semi-nightly ritual half way through first year, where the two read until very late in the evening. It had started when Hermione felt she could no longer stand to listen to the girlish squealing of her roommates, so she slipped out of the room and hurried to the infirmary with a faked migraine. The two spent hours pouring over her accumulated literature. After the third occurrence, Madam Pomfrey wrote her a note and the two made it a ritual.

All of her reading was precisely the reason she knew that while she was experiencing all of the symptoms associated _with_ a panic attack, she was not actually having one.

She had practically dry humped Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Pureblood ponce to end all Slytherin Pureblooded ponces. She was currently gazing out the window trying very hard not to make any contact with him. She was confused by their entire encounter and while her body had definitely enjoyed the experience, her brain wasn’t in agreement.

First his bloody seatbelt wasn’t working and then after he was sitting as close as possible to her, the car skidded to a stop and swerved as she was clicking his belt into the buckle. Since she couldn’t exactly seatbelt him in with her own seatbelt on, she had taken it off. When the car swerved she fell into a boneless heap directly into his lap.

Malfoy spluttered in disgust at the girl in his lap and mortified, she pushed her arms off of the seat, in an attempt to get off of him. Since karma apparently hated her this summer, at the same time she was lifting herself off of him, he shoved one of her legs off his thigh. The simultaneous twirling motions left her straddling him in middle of the backseat in a taxi cab. Her voice had caught in her throat when she stared into his charcoal grey irises, that were level with her own. She tried to articulate her apologies, but her mind had turned mush.

Hermione started in surprise when Draco’s face didn’t immediately form into pure disgust at his inferior classmate that was sullying his name by sitting on his lap. She had expected anger in the very least, not this darkened and expectant mask that obscured his features. It was a look she had only seen directed at her once before. Draco Malfoy was looking at her like Viktor did when they snogged in a closet after he asked her out to the Yule Ball. Hermione had seen Draco look like that in the Twelfth Century History section in the library, whilst pushing Pansy Parkinson up against the shelves.

She had seen other boys look at girls like that, but never had she expected that someone like Draco Malfoy would ever look at her the way he looked at Pansy Parkinson in the library. Pansy was the top of the proverbial girl food chain. She was pretty, had clothes, money, and boys fawning over her. All Hermione had were her grades and the explosive nest that most people called hair. Viktor had been quite the shock to not only herself,, but the entire school. Most boys that knew her forgot she was a girl entirely.

She had finally strung together enough words to apologize for basically sitting in his lap when the car went over a bump. Hermione moaned when she felt him grind up against herself. He protested loud enough for her to hear but low enough for her to think she imagined it for several seconds.

Hermione’s cheeks burned and flushed as her knickers dampened with the repeated motion. The actual bump had only caused the car to jump twice but they had gone up and down on each other at least four times. Malfoy’s eyes lips parted slowly and Hermione became all to aware that her hand was hovering a hair’s breadth over his high cheekbones.

 _“No, you don’t! How the bloody hell did you get there?”_ She scolded her traitorous fingers.

She was about to continue the scolding of her ligaments when she felt strong fingers curl and then tighten on her thighs. Startled, her hand froze as she was about to return it to her side, where it belonged. Why was he squeezing her thighs? Did he want her to-

“Are you two alright back there?” Her mum called.

Hermione whipped her hand back and stumbled into her seat with agility and speed that was certainly not human. She called back reassurance to her mum, but only after she belted herself to the seat and squished herself so close to the window she was in danger of fusing with it.

“Good thing they put on their seatbelts, yeah?” Her father laughed. “We’re almost there!”

Hermione stared resolutely out the window refusing to look at Draco Malfoy. If she looked at him she would have to address whatever the bloody hell just happened and she was not ready for that. Hell, she was probably never going to be ready for that.

Ignoring someone was great and all, especially when they’re sitting right next to you. Sitting so close that they’re breathing in the air you just exhaled. To make matters more uncomfortable it had gotten dark outside. One didn’t need to be an academic genius to know that when it is dark outside a window, a person sees the reflection in the window. Just Hermione Granger’s lucky damn day.

Hermione was so engrossed in her thoughts of not looking at Draco in the reflection of the window, or turning to look at him, that she completely missed that the taxi cab had stopped moving. Malfoy stood and gracefully extricated himself from the cab. Hermione, like normal people, stumbled as she attempted to get out of the back seat of the cab. After making it to the door without falling flat on her face, she stepped out of the cab.

She was so proud of not falling flat on her face in the cab that she didn’t look down when she got out of the automobile. Her foot stepped down on the very edge of the sidewalk and her ankle twisted as she tumbled face first out of the cab. The sidewalk came rushing up to her face when a pair of strong arms caught her a second before her face connected with the sidewalk.

“Ummm… thanks… er… sorry Mal-”

“Don’t mention it, Granger.” Malfoy snipped as he released her standing upright on the sidewalk.

Hermione was saved having to come up with a response, when her parents hurried over to them. They had just finished settling the fare and were ushering them under the awning of the hotel. “Blimey. It looks like it’s going to rain. Hermione and Draco head inside and wait in the lounge area while your father and I get the rooms sorted. We’ll order room service when we get upstairs.”

Draco reached the door first and held it open for her parents and then her, before following her into the lounge. She counted her steps in effort to calm her mind. There was a lot on her mind and she could use a glass of red. Her mother had told her to stay in the lounge but technically there were two lounges. An adult lounge and a child lounge. She knew her mother meant the children’s lounge, but she was having a monumentally long day.

Being an only child and grandchild, Hermione was used to being treated like an adult. Family functions revolved around wine and adult talk. There was never anyone to play with her age and Hermione was fine with that. She had an evolved palate and a vocabulary level that Oxford graduates simply adored.

She walked over to the bar and settled herself into the corner next to the drapery. The adult lounge was dimly lit and a bit ostentatious if she was being honest. However, it was far better than the junior lounge _._ While the adult lounge was geared toward weary, or vacationing adults, the junior lounge was a brightly colored mess, filled with pop, loud music, and board games. The walls were mint green with splatters of paint and each chair was a different style and color. It made Hermione’s head spin.

The adult lounge was the complete opposite. Besides for the bar, dancing lounge, and dating lounge it had an actual closed off area with tall dark bookshelves filled with books in a variety of languages. There were elegant chaises that were as comfortable as they were classy. Dark mahogany coffee tables were littered with more books, atop them proudly stood maroon and deep olive green Victorian tiffany lamps. Hermione was in love with the lamps alone and wanted to take them home with her.

The bittersweet notes of Bach in E major reached her ears spreading warmth and calmness through her. Instead of going straight into the library, she headed towards the bar that was just outside of her hidden sanctuary in Bulgaria. The reading lounge was a place she had not shared with Viktor or Elena. Given their breakup, she was glad.

“Hermione, I was so worried! I called up to your room and no one answered. I was about to send for the bobbies!” Bart was standing behind the bar putting the telephone back on the receiver. Hermione waved him off and settled into one of the bar stools. “Just let the lads know you got back. There was a shooting down by the beach.”

“I know,” she replied, accepting the glass he offered. “I was there. Had to go to the Hospital to get checked out. All good though. Thanks for the drink, Bart.”

He nodded. Bart was a foreign exchange student from jolly ole London. It was nice visiting a foreign country, but it was even nicer meeting a fellow native in said foreign country. While Bart’s father was British, his mother was not. She was originally from Bulgaria, but emigrated to England when she was fifteen. Bart had gone to Bulgaria for university to try and reconnect to his late mother. He was a tragically kind person and Hermione found a fellow old soul in him.

When the two weren’t rediscovering his familiy’s routes, or somberly visiting the block his mother grew up on, they genuinely enjoyed each others company. Bart reminded her a bit of Harry. He was easy going and would give you the shirt off of his back if he thought you needed it. It also helped that Bart lived up the road and often took Hermione and her parents sightseeing around Bulgaria after his shift at the hotel. Her parents were attached to the young orphan and already offered to look over his teeth when he was home for Christmas hols.

“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Draco drawled from the seat on her left. Shite, she forgot about him. Sparing him a glance, she rolled her eyes dramatically. Legs crossed and back straight, even sitting at a bar he was an aristocrat. Hermione sipped her wine leisurely while contemplating her response, mainly because she knew it would annoy him. She didn’t want to him to know how affected the _incident_ in the car had made her.

“Bart,” she looked at the ginger waiter, completely ignoring Malfoy. “this is one of my classmates from boarding school, Draco.”

“He a tosser?” Bart smirked, while handing Malfoy a drink; she suspected it was whiskey.

“The biggest of them. You haven’t got any of that lemon tart leftover, have you?”

“Nah, fresh out. They should be bringing more in tomorrow, though. I’ll make sure they send one up to your room. Chef Po really likes you.”

Hermione snorted. “Of course he does, I’m the only one who actually appreciates his baking and I remember his name.”

“Nah, you’re just the first female who will eat his pastries without whinging about getting fat.” Malfoy coughed into his drink trying and failing to cover a laugh. “No offense though, Hermione.”

“None taken, Bart. May I take the drink to the library?”

“Only if you don’t tell my boss and you don’t spill.” She smiled after thanking him and headed towards the library. The night before she had found one her favorite childhood books and she was excited to re-read it. Draco hurried after her, not bothering to ask permission to bring his drink into the tiny sanctum of literature.

“Where are we going?”

“This is the adult’s lounge. It has a library area, that also doubles as quiet workstations. I did all of my summer homework and reading here.”

“I don’t suspect I’ll be here long enough to start my homework.” Hermione was mortified.

“You haven’t _started_ your summer assignments?”

“Of course I have you miserable swot, but not everyone finishes their homework a week after they get home.”

“So when did you finish your homework?” Hermione challenged.

Malfoy waved his hand that wasn’t holding a glass full of amber liquid. “That’s besides the point.”

“No, it isn’t. Don’t mock me for finishing my school work and then pretend you haven’t already finished yours.”

“Why not?”

“Why shouldn’t I mock you?” Hermione resisted the urge to slap his smirk off of his face. “Arrghhh… you’re such an arse. How does anyone stand you?”

Malfoy smirked. “Pansy stands me just fine, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, well Pansy isn’t exactly the the pinnacle example of brains, now is she?”

“You realize I don’t value her for her brains, just her-”

“You could easily be a mountain troll and she would flutter her eyelashes the same way she does when she looks at you now.”

“Well, that’s uncalled for.”

“Oh, just shut up. We’re not allowed to make noise in the library. I will _not_ get thrown out.” Hermione stomped off in annoyance, but _quietly_. She was in a library after all.

She scurried to the corner shelf. It held children’s novels, as well as picture books. Lit by only one hanging Viktorian tiffany lamp in maroon, she knelt as she brushed through the books. When her fingertips closed on the faded yellow spine she smiled. _Hogwarts: A History_ wasn’t the only book that brought her immense joy by re-reading it. So did this book by dear, Italian born Ludwig Bemelmans. The copy was old, probably from the early forties. Hermione estimated it was a second edition before opening it.

Hermione settled herself into the closest couch while reading a handwritten inscription inside the leaflet. The name of the person it was addressed to, had been viscously removed but the rest of the inscription was intact.

 

_To my ------ - the other half of my heart,_

_May you have the strength to endure your life’s most grueling challenges, the compassion to forgive but not forget, the ability to forgo your pride in effort to learn humility, and the capability to love with such fervor it encompasses all of your heart._

 

_I will always be on the other side waiting for you, be it in this life or the next._

 

_Forever yours,_

_Pup_

 

Hermione loved reading the inscription, not because it was completely out of place on a children’s story book but because it gave her a glimpse into this unknown person’s life. Whenever she read the inscription, her imagination soared as she imagined who wrote these beautiful words. Was it to a lover? A friend? A family member? The possibilities were endless.

“That’s utter bollocks.” Malfoy sneered over her shoulder. Hermione rolled her eyes and gently turned the worn pages until she reached the first. Malfoy scooted closer to her and read aloud, albeit quietly, over her shoulder.

 

“ _In an old house in paris that was covered with vines,_

_lived twelve little girls in two straight lines._

 

_In two straight lines they broke their bread,_

_And brushed their teeth and went to bed._

 

_They smiled at the good and frowned at the bad._

_And sometimes they were very sad._

 

_They left the house at half past nine_

_In two straight lines._

_In rain or shine._

_The smallest one was Madeline._

 

_She was not afraid of mice,_

_She loved winter, snow, and ice._

 

_To the tiger in the zoo,_

_Madeline just said, “Pooh-Pooh”_

_And nobody knew so well,_

_How to frighten Ms. Clavell.”_

 

Draco paused reading as he inspected a yellow and black picture of little Madeline teetering on top of a bridge dangerously close to falling over the edge. Hermione smiled to herself. He stopped at her favorite part. She began to read aloud, picking up where he left off.

 

_“In the middle of one night_

_Miss Clavel turned on her light,_

_And said ‘Something is not right!’_

 

_Little Madeline sat in bed,_

_Cried and cried; her eyes were red._

 

_And soon after Dr. Cohn_

_Came, he rushed out to the phone._

_And he dialed: ‘Dan-two-sen-seix’_

_‘Nurse,’ he said ‘it’s an appendix.’_

 

_Everyone had to cry_

_Not a single eye was dry._

_Madeline was in his arm_

_In a blanket safe and warm._

 

_In a car with a red light,_

_They drive out into the night.”_

 

“Still reading Madeline my dear?” Hermione’s mum laughed. The two looked up from the couch to find her parents staring down at them softly. Her father reached forward and ruffled her hair.

“The rooms were switched and dinner was brought up. Draco, you have a guest waiting for you after dinner.”

Draco looked visibly nervous. Hermione closed the book at moved to put it back on the shelf.

“Oh, Hermione. Mr. Ognian said you could take the book up with you. He trusts that you will return the book before you leave in the same condition you found it in.” Hermione nodded and hugged the book to her chest. She had lost her beloved copy on a airplane to Sydney when she was six. Every time she visited her grandparents in Australia they teased her about how miserable she was after she lost her book. Most children had favorite dolls, Hermione had favorite books.

They made their way to the elevators. Hermione deposited her glass at the bar, thanking Bart once again and wishing him a good night. Draco left his glass as well sans the gratitude. Hermione stood next to her mother as she prattled on about the exceptional service in the hotel. Draco and her father brought up the rear of their little group. They were talking about the in depth machinactics of elevators and how the pulley and rig system has only improved in the turn of the century.  They entered the elevator and as the elevator rose their debate turned heated and more factual based. Hermione’s mum rolled her eyes. Some people were obsessed with bands or stamp collections, dad was obsessed with old cogs system that had been outdated once steam engines became popular. The world had moved forward towards electricity leaving an entire world of machinatics behind.

“We have a master suite and you and Draco will each have your own room. Are you okay, dear?”

“Yes, Mum. Just tired.”

“I can imagine. It’s been a very long day. We can eat dinner and go to bed, okay? Oh, here’s our stop.”

They got off at the fourth floor, her dad leading them towards three adjoining suites at the corner of the hallway. Dad opened the door at the very end of the hallway, it was clearly the master suite. They walked into a large muted colored living room that was loosely connected to an retro chic dining room.

Hermione barely had time to register the details of dining room table when she caught sight of a balcony beyond the french doors. Hermione squeaked and rushed passed her dad. After gently placing her book on the table, she threw the doors wide and stepped through them. A gentle fall of rain coated her face, making her smile. The air was always clearer and cleaner after a rainfall. She took big gulps of breath and raised her hands out to the sky.

To her left was another porch, it was probably connected to the master bedroom. Hermione would have spent at least another ten minutes out on the porch when her mother’s voice called her to sit down. Blinking one last time at the rain, she opened her mouth to call back when she was stunned into silence. A cold drawl that she knew all too well stole her calmness and sheer giddiness that the rain had provided her.

“Miss Granger, do cease standing in the rain; you look like an imbecile.” Hermione spun so fast her head hurt.

“Professor… Professor…” The brightest witch of her year spluttered.

“Granger, sit down and eat your dinner.” Hermione stumbled into the room. Draco was sitting, looking shocked and moving his food around his plate.

The table was set for five. Each plate filled with kyufte and moussaka served with a side of shkembe soup. While not traditional english dishes Hermione had gotten used to the flavorful meatball that was Kyufte and the Bulgarian version of cottage pie, Moussaka. Hermione still wasn’t sure what was in the shkembe soup but according to her dad, she didn’t want to. There was also baklava and banista but Hermione was already full from the soup. Hermione nervously took a sip of wine.

Professor Snape was still standing in his black billowing robes looking like her family had personally offended him somehow. Her mother who had just finished ushering her father into a seat, turned to her potions professor.

“Professor Snape, won’t you sit with us for a bite?”

“No, thank you, Dr. Granger. I cannot stay long as I have prior engagements. I just came to speak with my godson.”

Draco pushed back his chair and made to stand. One look from his Head of House had him sitting back down and eating bites of food. The look had clearly communicated, ‘You will not snub their generosity and you will eat the food they have bought you.’

After a bit of eating and coughing on Draco’s part, Hermione’s father offered her Professor wine.

“By large, the Magical community prefers whiskey or scotch.”

“Finally,” her father exclaimed. “No one will drink whiskey with me. A colleague of mine lives in USA and he sends me bottles of Whiskey Bourbon from Kentucky every year.”

Her father handed her Professor a glass and the two drank in silence. Hermione met Draco’s eyes and the two were simultaneously stunned to find that he wasn’t scowling. Hermione wouldn’t go so far as to say he was happy, but he definitely didn’t want to hex everyone in front of him.

The two continued into have a lively discussion about the label, proofing, and different types of distilleries while Hermione ate her hearty shkembe soup. She zoned in and out of the conversation, her head tired and her limbs heavy.

“... well I’ll definitely ask him to send you a bottle or two in the post when he sends his next shipment. He lives in Ohio, which I am told is not too far from the Kentucky border. His brother owns this specific distillery. I’m sure he’ll be happy to have found a Brit who enjoys Bourbon.”  

“Thank you, Dr. Granger.”

“I should really be thanking you, Professor. How you manage to put up with not just my teenager but an enclosed castle filled with them is beyond me.”

“I am of the same sentiment.”

“Well regardless, thank you for keeping an eye on our Hermione so she doesn’t blow anything up.”

“Hermione is hardly the problem, though you might advise her to sit as far from her dunderheaded friends as humanly possible.” Draco snorted into his glass and while Hermione desperately wanted to rebuke him, but she really didn’t have a leg to stand on. Seamus had blown up another cauldron the day before their Potion’s exam and Neville had melted his _during_ the exam. Even Crabbe and Goyle hadn’t been that catastrophic. “Draco, are you quite done with your supper?”

Draco stood immediately, “Thank you Mrs.. I mean Dr. Granger and Dr. Granger.”

“The room to your left darling, Professor Snape, you have the key?”

“Yes, ma’am. Have a good night. ”

He whirled around his robes making him look like the vampire he probably was, Malfoy followed him out of the room, closing the door soundly behind them.

“Hermione dear, you look dreadful. Why don’t you head up to bed? I’ll get your room key. It’s the room right after Draco’s.”

Her mother walked her to her room after wrapping up her leftovers for her to leave in her room’s ice box. Her book clutched tightly in her hands, Hermione stumbled into her darkened room. Not bothering to turn the lights on, she put the food away and staggered her way towards the bed.

It was evident that the hotel staff had already moved her stuff to her new room. Taking great care to fold all of her things away in the drawers, she was relieved to see a stack of her school books on the bedside table. Thankfully, her school books had glamor charms on them to look like regular school books. Had they not, she would be having an uncomfortable conversation with a member of the Ministry right now.

Placing her borrowed book on top of her school ones, she collapsed onto the giant cream bed. Content that everything was as it should be she released her hair from it’s confines and buried her head into her pillow. While she saw her pajamas at the edge of her bed, she was too tired to actually change into them. Sparing one last glance at her books on the bedside table, she succumbed to the darkness pulling her under.

 

Draco began to pace the room as soon as Severus closed the door behind them. He was furious, that much was evident as soon as he entered the Granger’s flat. Severus settled himself into a spare chair, only after scourgifying it _twice_.

“What happened?” Draco knew his godfather long enough to know when he was furious. This was fury combined with… with something else Draco was having trouble identifying.

“I was attacked.”

“I gathered. I expected you to expound, Draco. The purpose of safe house is to keep you safe. When one sets their godson up in a safehouse they expect them to remain within the walls of said safehouse.” He sneered. Okay, he was definitely pissed.

“I went to the market to buy supplies for potion work. Some crazy Wizard attacked me when I was on my way home.” Draco neglected to mention the bracelet that was currently burning a hole in his pocket. Granger’s father discreetly gave it back to him in the elevator.

“Were there any witnesses?”

“No.”

“Are you sure, Draco?”

“Positive. He pulled me into an alley. He was a vagrant, barely had three teeth to scrape together.”

“What did he look like?”

“He was filthy it was hard to tell. His hair was black as pitch. And his eyes… grey eyes? I think.” Severus leapt out of the chair immediately, his hands on either side of his head.

 _“Legilimens!”_ He hissed. Draco balked at his godfather’s abrupt intrusion.

 

_The bright afternoon light was gone immediately and Draco was face to face with an old crone with only three yellow crooked teeth._

_“Malfoy.” he rasped. Draco startled backwards fumbling for his wand._

_“I don’t-” Draco’s wand dropped to the floor with clatter, uselessly next to his feet._

_“DON’T LIE TO ME BOY! YOUR FATHER BETRAYED US ALL! HE SOLD US ALL TO THE OATH BREAKERS AND BLOOD TRAITORS!” Draco flattened himself against the wall as the Wizard spewed spit and venom in his face. He whipped out his wand and began to wave it in front of his face. Draco could feel the blood drain from his face. This man was unhinged. This man was unhinged and waving a wand at him. His wand was on the floor. His wand was on the bloody floor. Shite. Shite. Shite._

_“THE DEATH TO THE LOT OF YOU I SAY!” Draco wondered why no one outside this dark alcove had heard the man yelling. The man’s waving got more frantic as he shouted obscenities that made little to no sense._

_“Long for the bottoms. Crucio. The cup or the Snake. The death of the snake. The locket. Where is the locket? WHERE IS THE LOCKET?”_

_“I don’t know what locket you’re talking about!”_

_“What’s in your pocket? Show me your pocket!” Draco showed him the bracelet and after he grunted angrily Draco shoved the bracelet back into the safety of his trousers._

_“The locket. The locket. WHERE IS THE LOCKET?” He advanced on Draco without warning until his wand tip was under his throat. His rotting breath making Draco want to wretch._

_“I don’t know”, he whispered. The man’s eyes focused for a moment and Draco could have sworn there was recognition in his familiar grey eyes. Deciding to go for chance of the man having some semblance of sanity Draco spoke again with as much confidence as he could muster._

_“Listen, you seem to be having a rough day. I’ve got a pocketful of galleons that will help you get on your feet. Sons shouldn’t suffer the sins of their fathers, right?” Especially when your father enslaved himself and his family to crazy persons cult._

_Whatever he said was the wrong thing to say because the man’s eyes turned wild and dark instantly. “So like your father, are you? Going to shit on the world and watch it burn? Going to send my brother to Azkaban while you sit at home on your mountains of GALLEONS?”_

_Draco dropped and made to scrambled for his wand. He bet Potter and his friends never got into this trouble. Their parents hadn’t thrown anyone into Azkaban._

_“AV-” the crazed man began to scream just as Draco’s fingers closed around his wand. Now what? What the bloody hell was he supposed to do against a crazed adult wizard. He hadn’t even taken his O.W.L.’s yet! As he panicked he thought of what every student in his year would do. Granger could probably bloody apparate already. He thought bitterly. It was the last thought he had before his feet were yanked out from under him and he screamed in terror and then everything went black._

 

Draco came to on the floor, his godfather in a state of unbridled fury and what he now recognized as fear. His voice was evenly controlled but Draco knew that he was scared. “Draco, you were stupidly lucky that day.”

“Stupidly lucky?” Severus guided him to the bed and Draco slumped down on it. He handed him a glass of water and he guzzled it gratefully.

“I’m sure I don’t have to remind you the dangerous political tension right now? The Dark Lord is vetting all of his followers. He is going through their minds and trying to find out who is loyal and who is not. Those who are loyal will be welcomed back and those who are not are being punished.”

Draco paled. “Which are we?”

“I don’t know.” Severus offered him a hand up. Draco took it and Severus guided him to the bed where he was pushed down into sitting on it. “Right now, everything hangs on your father. I have been forgiven by the Dark Lord but your father has not yet been forgiven. The Dark Lord is currently a searching your home for any sign of defection.”

“That’s why mother and I were in your safehouse?”

“The Dark Lord tortures and kills his subject’s loved ones before he kills them. Knowing this information keeps anyone from straying from the cause and from him. Your mother was concerned for your safety and asked me for help before the end of the term.”

Draco felt his stomach turn. Shite. “Mother -”

“Was terrified, when she came home and you were gone. When you get home she is going to skin you alive.”

They were both silent for several moments, while Draco drowned in self deprecating thoughts and misery. What kind of son did that to his mother? She probably thought he was dead. He should never have left the house without her, or he should have left a note at least.

“Draco, you are not going to like this decision, but your parents and I believe it’s the safest thing for you.”

“What?”

“The Dark Lord called for your mother early this morning. He thought she was in her summer villa in France. She left for the Manor and after… after their meeting she had to go to the France villa to keep up the ruse. It was in shambles, savaged by werewolves that are serving the Dark Lord now. We think they were looking for you.

“Neither of your parents know your current location and we need it to stay that way. In case they don’t meet his approval you will be safe and out of his clutches, for however temporary a time that is. The Dark Lord has not asked to see you yet, something we are thankful for. He is distracted and only pops in to visit the manor every second or third day while it is being searched. Until he makes a decision you need to stay away from your home and your family. Right now, and both Dr. Granger’s agree with me, the safest place for you to remain is here. They will hide you in plain sight and protect you under the guise of Muggles.”

Draco jumped off of the bed in fury. “The hell I will! My mother is in danger!”

Severus put an arm on his shoulder. “I know. I would never have left my mother at the Dark Lord’s mercy, but there is nothing we can do.”

Draco was startled out of his nervous pacing at the mention of his mother. Severus never spoke of his family. Father said his father was an abusive halfblood. The rumor was he joined the Dark Lord so that he could get away from his father.

“What happened to her?”

“My father beat her to death.” Severus voice was devoid of emotion and his eyes hollow.

“Will the Dark Lord kill my mother?” His voice broke at the end, but he was terrified to care.

“I don’t think so, maybe your father, but definitely not your mother. Your maternal aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange was his right hand during the first Wizarding war. He holds her above all else and if she asked him to spare her sister, he would. Bellatrix has always had fondness for her younger sister. If the whispers are true and she does return soon, she will be a powerful ally to cultivate, Draco. She never had any children and loved you like a son since your infancy.”

“You mean before she went to Azkaban for being a sociopath?” Draco crossed his arms over his chest. Severus merely chuckled from the bed.

“Whatever her mind was like before she was incarcerated will look like garden gnomes compared whatever mottled version we will be exposed to.”

“I’m going to die before I hit seventeen.” He croaked bitterly. “Do you want my prefered funeral arrangements or should I give them to father directly, seeing as he is the ones who got our family into this mess?”

“Funny, your father said the same thing about his father right before he got his mark.”

“Mark?”

“His left arm is always glamored or covered. You never wondered why?”

“Am I going to have to take a mark?” Draco whispered so quietly he wasn’t sure Severus heard. His godfather walked over to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Most assuredly, Draco, though your mother, your father, and I will do everything in our power to prevent it.”

“I’m scared.” He murmured.

“You’d be a fool if you weren’t. Everyone is scared, even Dumbledore.”

Draco was scared to go home, but he was also scared to run. He was scared to die, but he was even more scared to live. What price would he have to pay to keep living under Voldemort’s rule? He’d be forced to torture and murder hundreds of Dr. Grangers. They were good and honest people. They don’t deserve the approaching war and nor did he. He barely started studying for O.W.Ls and he was already being called into action as if he was an adult. They would burn him and brand him and make him a killer.

Draco slumped onto the bed and leaned against the headboard. Nausea was overtaking his fear and he rubbed his stomach as felt whatever he ate for dinner fighting to make its reappearance.

He’d be branded. They would brand him and he would bare the mark of a killer for the rest of his life. Either their world would fall and he would be a murderer, or the Dark Lord would fall and he would be sent to Azkaban because he was marked, because he had no choice.

“What… What does it look like?”

“No. This is not a conversation to be had with me. Ask you father.”

“Uncle Severus,” his voice broke and his eyes stung viscously. He pulled his hands away from his stomach and stared at his fingers willing the tears to cease. “please. I won’t survive this if I’m not prepared.”

His godfather sighed and ran his long lanky fingers through his hair. Draco’s mother had once said he would have made a terribly beautiful pianist, if he wasn’t so obsessed with potions. Draco remembered her trying to teach him, but he lacked the discipline and the patience.

Severus unbuttoned his robes and laid them on the bed. He sat down next to Draco, and Draco sat up. Severus slowly undid the buttons on his white shirt wincing as each button came undone. He paused once his wrist was exposed. “Are you sure, Draco?”

Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak. This was what it all came down to, this mark would determine the rest of his life. Having a clear image of what was going to destroy him was definitely going to help him sleep better at night.

Severus flicked the next four buttons in succession and his sleeve rolled up on it’s own. Draco wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t something so… slithery. A blackened skull was being strangled by a snake. It wasn’t just the image that was grotesque but the actual ink. It was more like an ichor than an ink. It was thick and moving on it’s own. As if it was watching everything Severus was doing. Curious, Draco leaned forward.

“No.” Severus gripped his shoulder, his eyes wide with panic. “If you touch it with magic, it summons the Dark Lord and his forces. Never touch one of these, Draco.”

“What ink is used to make that?”

“Ink? Draco, this is black magic. What do you think this is?” Draco felt the blood leave his body.

“Blood? It’s blood magic.”

“Yes, Draco. It’s blood magic and therefore can never be undone.” The phrase was, ‘ _A blood sacrifice is required for blood magic and therefore it can never be undone.’_ It was a warning told to everyone Pureblooded child. A warning against the blackest and darkest forms of magic, a mistake to which there was no recourse and no turning back.

“You had to kill someone for that… that _thing_?” He gasped. Severus looked like he had been slapped but quickly raised a mask of indifference.

“Death Eaters aren’t confined to just killing one, Draco. I have killed more people than I care to count.” Draco jerked away from his godfather, fearing him for the first time in his life.

“Why?”

“Because when the Dark Lord tells you to do something, Draco, you do it. You don’t ask questions, you don’t have second thoughts, and you _do not_ fail him. If you fail him the death of your family will be swift and yours slow.”  Draco lurched off the bed trying to put space between the two of them.

“Who was it?”

“What?”

“You know what I’m asking! Whose life did you take to earn that mark on your arm?” Severus sighed, running his hands through his hair again.

“My father.” He whispered quietly. Draco was stunned into silence.

“The Ministry would take no action against him because he was a Muggle. I won’t make excuses nor will I ask for forgiveness. I found out when I came home for the summer that my mother had been dead for months. The authorities, both magical and Muggle refused to listen to me. I was forced to live in my neighbor’s house because my Muggle father refused to house me. I fought with Li-... with my neighbor at school that next year and after school ended she suggested I stay with my Slytherin friends. At that point I was a child with literally nowhere to go, Walburga Black took me in. I used to tutor her son, Regulus in potions. We were... close before he died towards the end of first Wizarding War.”

“I’m sorry, I-” Severus waved his hand, dismissing Draco’s apology.

“I made my choice and I can’t change them now.” He looked down at his watch and sighed. His buttons closed themselves and his robes returned to his shoulders. “I cannot stay any longer. I am expected. Stay here, Draco and be safe.”

Severus turned and left the room without a proper goodbye. Neither offered one, as one was heartbroken by his godson’s rejection and the other by his godfather’s terrible life that was about to become his own.


	7. Chapter Seven: Lemon Tart Supreme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco wake up in the hotel. In their own beds, alone. See what I did there?
> 
> Thank you to my amazing beta mrsren, who besides for making amazing aesthetics (check out her tumblr mrsren96) she's writes amazing fics! Check out her new fic The Unofficial Diaries of an Omega.

****

#  **Chapter 7: Lemon Tart Supreme**

 

Hermione woke to the sun shining and birds chirping. She blinked the sun out of her eyes, marveling at the beautiful day. There was not a cloud in the sky. It wasn’t something people often thought to be thankful for, but when you lived in England where it was overcast three hundred and twenty of the three hundred and sixty five days a year, you get excited over blue skies.

Scientifically, the reason for the miserable weather was because they were located in a warm gulfstream. The air within England came from the polar caps above them and was much colder, than say the African American coast that absorbed a lot the heat the brits would have liked to have had.

Magic, had an entirely different reason for the freezing winter, rainy summers, springs, and falls. According to History of Magic: An Unofficial Magical Guide for a Muggleborn, Merlin spent most of his life creating cursed weather to occupy places of great magical importance. One of the examples was New Orleans, Louisiana in the United States. They had terrible hurricanes every ten or fifteen years that decimated not only the people, but the land as well. Hermione had looked up maps of the same landmarks and the difference in swamp lands, rivers, lakes, and even actual hills and mountains was outrageous.

Her favorite examples was of the Japanese wizarding community. They housed one of the eleven magical schools, Mahoutokoro, and the island had literally transformed itself around their community. Madam Pomfrey had bought her a book on how Merlin had shattered the tectonic plates with his staff. The cracks in the tectonic plates spread to encompass the growing magical communities. One of the first it covered was the Japanese community. The idea was that tsunamis and earthquakes would keep the Muggle population focused on natural disasters, rather than the growing magical community.

She had debated this for an entire lesson with Professor Binns, arguing that it was barbaric to place one life over another. He argued that no lives were being harmed by Merlin’s protection spells. She’d like to think, that had anyone else in the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor house been awake or present they would have shouted in indignation, or something. She had been stumped her ghostly professor by pointing out that hosts of  _ people  _ lose their lives every time there is a natural disaster. He had agreed to disagree with her and awarded Gryffindor house thirty points for her compelling argument.

Hermione always smiled when she thought of gaining points for her house. Most of her classmates didn’t appreciate her  _ swotiness,  _ as they called it. They did appreciate getting house points and help with homework. Two things Hermione happened to excel at.

Stretching her arms, she got out of bed her back aching. She had fallen asleep in her bra and clothes and her body ached. It wasn’t like she needed a big bra like Lavender, but it was still uncomfortable. Hermione walked stiffly to her bathroom grabbing her pajamas on the edge of her bed, as she went.

Half an hour into her long steaming shower, Hermione hopped out wrapping herself in a fuzzy warm towel. She wiped the steam from the mirror, as she vigorously brushed her teeth. When she remembered she forgot to brush her teeth the before, she brushed again, before flossing and using mouthwash. Her classmates at Hogwarts thought her teeth cleaning was odd, but Hermione was the daughter of two dentists. What did they expect?

She dried off before dressing in her pajamas. Her hair was a mess, but that wasn’t anything new. She smoothed some conditioner between her fingers and combed it through her hair. Then she wrapped her hair in the towel like a turban, and secured it above her head. She was mentally cataloging her books for the day, when the smell of hot breakfast wafted into the loo.

Barefoot, she scurried out of the bathroom. Her dad was sitting on her bed with a breakfast tray. He smiled when he saw her. She forgot how much she missed her dad at Hogwarts sometimes.

“Is that all for me?” She asked motioning to the tray with bacon, eggs, chips, pancakes, and orange juice.

“Well, this old man wanted to serve his daughter breakfast in bed, but she decided to scurry off before I could get to her.” Hermione laughed as he kissed her cheek and gave her a morning hug. Still holding her food, her father guided her over to a small coffee table in front of the deep blue wingback couch.

She sat back against the cozy cushions and ate her breakfast with gusto. She had not realized just how hungry she was, she felt like Ron. She had eaten dinner last night, right? She was mulling over what she had and hadn’t eaten the day before when she caught her father’s eye.

“Hermione, love.” Hermione looked up abruptly. That wasn’t a good tone. That was the, ‘you did something wrong and you’re in trouble’ tone. Hermione raised both palms in the air in a universal surrender pose.

“I just woke up.” 

“It’s about yesterday, about whatever it is I walked in on with you and Draco.” Hermione groaned. She was having such a nice morning. Really, there were birds chirping and everything. “I’d like to talk about it”

“Must we?”

“We must.” Hermione huffed and put her fork down. Cheers to cold eggs.

“We were rowing.”

“I gathered that. Do you usually threaten to oust the statue of magical secrecy in middle of a regular hospital because of a row, Hermione Jean Granger? I would have thought your mother and I raised you better, I shudder to think what Professor McGonagall would think. ” Her father didn’t need to raise his voice or actual say he was disappointed in her, to make her feel two inches tall.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I-”

“Hermione, everyone gets upset. It happens. I used to hit your uncle more times than I can count as a teen, but I never not once blurted out any of his embarrassing secrets on the school yard just because we were bickering. You are  _ trusted _ with the secret of an entire species. A secret that, if exposed, could impact thousands. It could potentially lead to mass persecution, Hermione. Our  _ family _ is entrusted with a literal magical world and we thought you took that as serious as we do.”

“Daddy, I do!”

Her father looked at her sternly. He was searching her eyes, for what Hermione had no idea. He must have found whatever he was looking for because his expression softened.

“So, let’s talk about it. Without specifics because that won’t help us now, tell me what happened?”

“I just got so angry. He was being his usual self. I just… I wanted to hex him to show him.”

“To show him what, my dear?”

“That he isn’t better than me because he comes from a magical family. I wanted to show him that I can defend myself and I don’t need Harry and Ron to defend me.”

“Correct me, dear, but is this not the boy whose nose you broke in your third year?” Hermione nodded in embarrassment. Physical violence was something Hermione  _ never  _ resorted to. “Is there some leftover resentment there you think?”

“Well he did try and attack-”

“What did we say?”

“Sorry, I know. We can change the future not the past, there’s no point dwelling on it.”

“What is something you think we can do for the future?”

“Maybe…ugh… this is…”

“Think my little fearless, Madeline.” Hermione picked up her fork and twirled it around her thumbs.

“I can take a deep breath, count to ten, and be confident and not rise to his bait.”

“Do you remember the five things to get rid of bullies?”

“Be confident and don’t stoop to their level. A bully wants to feel powerful, if you don’t give them the power there is no struggle and they have no hold over you.”

“The next?”

“Bullies like to make you feel alone as well as powerless. Keep close to my friends and adults,  be honest with them about what is happening in your life.”

“I know you like Professor McGonagall, but if you aren’t comfortable going to her, speak to Madam Pomfrey.”

“Never challenge the bully or instigate a fight. Stay emotionless as possible. If you get angry they can use that as you posing a challenge to them.”

“Go on,” he urged.

“Practice your limits on what is and isn’t appropriate. Ignoring them only works when they’re being a minor nuisance. Responding in a cold detached manner when your limits are being breached, is just as important as the previous steps. Also set your limits properly.

“Lastly, be consistent and step away from a moment when you realize the situation has become to heated and you no longer have control.”

Her father laughed awkwardly. “I know I bought you that book before you left in first year, but I honestly didn’t think you would read it once I found out there was a magical library at school.”

“I… Ron has an inferiority complex and sometimes… it’s hard to be friends with him.”

“He didn’t like you going to the ball with Viktor?”

“No, not at all. He was pretty terrible about it.” Her dad smiled to himself. “What?”

“Remember what I said about boys who pull girls pigtails on the playground?” Hermione jaw dropped at the realization. She sputtered in shock. “I’m not saying that it’s okay, but it explains his reaction, Hermione.”

“Also, speaking of pulling people’s hair. Draco will be staying with us for our duration of our trip here in Bulgaria.”

“WHAT?”

“Seriously, Hermione what did we just speak about?”

“Dad, you are joking. Please tell me you’re joking.” Her father shook his head sadly. Hermione got up from the couch and began to look back and forth from the door to her father. Her breakfast was cold and completely forgotten at this point.

“Why would he stay with us when he lives in an  _ actual _ castle?”

“He lives in a castle?”

“That’s what Pansy said.”

“Pansy?”

“Parkinson. They went to the Yule ball together. She said he lives in a castle. You didn’t answer my question. Why is he staying with us?” Hermione was flaring her nostrils as she breathed heavily. She really needed to calm down.

“It’s not safe for him at home, Hermione. Professor Snape and his mother spoke to us last night and even if they hadn’t, we would still be keeping an eye on him. He is an abandoned and  _ injured _ teenager in a foreign country, with no friends of family. What kind of adult would leave him on his own?”

Hermione grumbled to herself. Her father had a point. She was starting to calm down when she was struck with a terrible realization.

“I’m going to be stuck with him the whole day, aren’t I? You both are going to go to the convention and I’m going to be stuck babysitting the Pureblooded prince from hell. Oh, god! He knows nothing about the normal world. He’s not going to have any clue how to function. He can’t use teles, or mobiles, or anything! Dad, he has house elves in his home. They’re  _ slaves _ , dad! Slaves!” Hermione moaned rubbing her face in frustration. Hermione looked skyward and shook her hands above her head. “Why? What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?”

Her father chuckled as he helped himself to one of her cold chips. “No. Uh-uh, you don’t get to come in here and ruin my day and then steal my chips. There’s a line.”

This only made him laugh harder. Hermione slumped angrily on the couch. This wasn’t fair. This was completely and totally unfair. Her father was still chuckling when he started making hand motions towards her plate of food. Still grumbling, Hermione rolled her eyes and stabbed at her cold eggs angrily. She chomped her food lacking all proper decorum. If she was being honest, she was channeling her inner Ron.

Her father’s suggestion that Ron,  _ liked _ her was absolutely absurd. Hermione fiddled with the corner of her pancake as she thought about their interactions last year. He had been so angry when he saw her with Viktor. She hadn’t stop to wonder why he was so angry. He hadn’t asked her, or had he?

Hermione rubbed her temples in annoyance. He had asked if she would go with him or Harry, but that wasn’t asking her out, was it? Was he so scared to ask her out? Was he trying? Hermione sat back on the couch and thought about the weeks leading up to Yule ball. Ron had accompanied her to the library more than once. Wasn’t he studying though?

Hermione was buried deep in her thoughts while she ate. It was not an uncommon occurrence in the Granger household. Hermione would be studying or reading at the table, while her mother nagged her father about his moderately high cholesterol. She looked over at her dad eating chips and smiled fondly. Mum would have a cow if she saw him eating anything that wasn’t green and leafy. She pushed over the last of the chips towards him and the two polished off the rest of her plate.

“That was delicious, if I do say so myself.” He beamed.

“Well, you did eat most of it…” Her dad laughed and tickled her side.

“That’s unnecessarily rude. I was being helpful.”

“By eating my food?”

“I’m the helpful sort.” Hermione chuckled and kissed her dad’s cheek.

“Well, I’ll return the helpfulness and not tell Mum you had saturated fats.” Her father rolled his eyes, identical as his daughter’s eyes only moments before.

“She’s barmy, that woman. What’s a burger here, or there?” Hermione laughed and hugged her dad. Her parents were so painfully regular it was surprising that Hermione was anything but.

“Well, I think we’ll avoid telling her. Just to stay on the safe side, yah?”

“Just to be safe!” He agreed. “So, today, I want you  _ both _ inside either of your rooms for the day. The discharge from the hospital was contingent on at least one days bed rest. I would say you could go to the library downstairs but Bartley just informed me the elevator is broken and under no circumstance may either of you take the stairs.”

Bartley? Oh, Bart.

“Good thing I have plenty of reading material with me.”

“Yes and Bartley offered to bring up any materials you would like to borrow. He already cleared it with his boss. He said to ring him if you need anything. I already spoke to management and they’ll be bringing up snacks and lunch. All you have to do is stay in bed and read.”

“Hey,” Hermione raised her arms as she made her way from the couch to her bed. “There’s no need to tell me twice. I am being ordered to read the whole day in bed. It’s the dream life, Dad!” Her father chuckled before kissing her head as she snuggled back into bed.

“Your mother is talking with Draco now. She had a couple of things she wanted to… talk to him about. He’s probably going to spend the day in here.”

“Must he?”

“You are the one who pointed out he can’t use anything in his room.” Hermione settled herself into her bed, cozying up amongst her pillows.

Her father tucked her in and kissed her forehead. “Hermione, try and be kind to him.”

“Why? Can’t I just ignore him?”

“Hermione, something or someone attacked him and chased him here. His parents don’t trust anyone in their world right now. So much so, that they asked for help from people they abhor.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re helping him.”

“One day when you have children you will.” He smiled knowingly at her.

“You sound like a fortune cookie.”

“Maybe, but that boy is alone and abandoned right now. I can’t imagine what he feels like and the idea that you would ever be in his position kept your mother and I up last night. Your world is shifting Hermione and you have to be cleverer and careful. Make friends not enemies and try and pull your head out of those books this year. A book won’t rescue you in a fight, a friend will.”

Hermione nodded solemnly. He wasn’t wrong.The entire Wizarding world was on edge with Voldemort’s return. According to the Prophet, the Ministry was pretending nothing happened. They were scared. Ron said his mum and his older brother, Bill was leaving for secret meetings with Sirius. If the government wasn’t going to stop Voldemort someone had to.

“I’ll work on it.” She promised.

“That’s all I ask. You could try with Draco, you know.” At her puzzled look he continued. “Friends, Hermione. Taking your head out of your books and being friends.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled the covers up to her chin stubbornly.

“Hermione, just try. That’s all I am asking” He smiled at her and then walked to the door. “Have a good day sweetheart.” The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Hermione to her books and her thoughts.

****  
  
  


Draco barely slept the night before. He was terrified for his mother and mildly terrified of Severus. While intellectually, he knew that should extend to his father he wasn’t scared of him. To him, his father had never been someone who would kill. It was a line he never would have crossed. Intimidating, yes. Shady off the record deals, definitely. But killing was not in his repertoire, or at least Draco desperately hoped it wasn’t.

When the sun finally rose he was able to get some sleep but only when he slept on the couch facing a big black reflective box. His last thought before he drifted off was concern for his mother’s safety and whether, or not she was thinking of him.

Draco awoke calm and relaxed to the smell of hot breakfast. His stomach growled and he was glad that someone had dropped it off for him. Actually the rubbing on his head was nice too.

Draco jumped up from the couch his hand scrambling for his wand.

“It’s alright, Draco. It’s just me, Hermione’s mother remember?”

“Why are you in my room?” He demanded.

“You called out in your sleep, dear.” Draco was mortified. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed of, Hermione does it all the time.”

“She’s… she’s,” Draco spluttered. “she’s a girl!”

“An astute observation, but I don’t understand what it has to do with night terrors.”

“Only girls have night terrors.”

“That’s preposterous. Night terrors is a night time manifestation of fears or terrors that your mind pushes away when you are awake. They often don’t make sense or are jumbled but if you look deep enough they almost always have a connection to your worries in the waking world.”

Draco looked at the woman in stunned silence. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Now sit up, I have breakfast. I took the liberty to double it as you barely touched your supper last night.” Draco ate his breakfast quickly as Granger’s mother hummed to herself. If it had been anyone else he would have told them to shut their yapper, but Dr. Granger’s voice was calming and Draco felt so at ease his eyes began to slip shut.

“Ah, I brought you something from my world I think you’ll enjoy.” She handed him a glass cup with three different layers of colors. The bottom most was dark brown, then light brown, and then a creamy frothy white. It smelled vaguely like coffee. He took a tentative sip and his eyes snapped open in delight.

“That’s delicious.”

“It’s called a latte.”

“What’s in it?”

“Espresso, which is a magic of its own.” Draco looked at the drink quizzically  _ he  _ had never heard of espresso or latte and he was the magical one in the room. Dr. Granger laughed pulling Draco out of his thoughts.

“Dear, while you’re out in the  _ Muggle _ world, keep in mind when people say  _ magical  _ they mean it’s so amazing it doesn’t appear to be real.”

“Oh.”

“In answer to your actual question, espresso is a strong black coffee made by forcing steam through ground coffee beans. It has a higher concentration of caffeine and people are obsessed with it. There’s actually an espresso bar in London not too far from the Leaky Cauldron.”

“This is delicious.” He repeated as he drained the cup. Granger’s mother smiled at him and for the first time he noticed, she was beautiful. But in a older womanly way, he wondered if Granger would look like her mother when she got older.

“If you want another, you can ring the front desk. Hermione can show you how to do it. The both of you need to be on bed rest for at least twenty four hours, so no going anywhere today. Hermione’s room is across the hallway. I would suggest spending the day there, she has books from school as well as other literature she brought with her. Lunch will be delivered for the both of you at noon in her room.”

Draco say quietly thinking to himself. He was going to spend the entire day with bloody Hermione Granger of all people. Bloody wonderful.

“Did Severus speak to you?”

“Yes, Professor Snape and I spoke after he spoke with you. We both agree it’s safest for you to stay with my husband and I until he can find whomever it was that attacked you.”

“Attacked me?”

“Yes, apparently your underage magic was registered with the Ministry of Magic and they want to know why you were using magic outside of school.”

“But I was in another country! The Ministry only monitors within the country you live in and England.”

“Apparently the Ministry is monitored all… of the accused from the first Wizarding War. When you apparated they tried to find you but since you apparated to another country, they couldn’t. According to Professor Snape, it’s a rare talent to have the required concentration to apparate long distances.”

Draco blinked dumbly. It was? It was probably because he was an occlumens. Dr Granger withdrew a letter from her pocket and handed it to Draco.

“Professor Snape has filled out a report that you were attacked by a nameless vagrant squib, not that I have any idea what that means, and you have been put into protective custody. He assured me that the Ministry of Magic believes, that given his position, means that you are at Hogwarts. He gave me a copy of the statement for you to read.”

Dr. Granger handed him a DMLE assault form. In it, it claimed he was taking potions and defense classes with his godfather over the summer to prepare for O.W.Ls. On the occasion in question, his godfather stepped out to attend a Hogwarts Staff meeting and Draco was attacked while picking up potion ingredients. It details the attack as Draco described but leaves out of his descriptions of the attacker, only vaguely mentioning that he was a hooded 6”8 beast of a Wizard, with broad shoulders and dark skin. None of those things were true and Draco wondered why Severus altered those specific details.

“You just need to sign the bottom so that the Ministry can file it and your magical incident be dropped.” After inspecting it one more time he signed his name with unnecessary flourish. The document glowed blue, rolled itself up and disappeared.

“No matter how many times I see it, I’ll never get used to magic. It’s something else isn’t it?”

“Not when you’re raised with it, to me it’s as natural as breathing. It must have been quite the shock for your family.”

“Not really. We don’t talk about it, but one of our extended cousins is a wiccan. Now we know she is actually a witch and that there is magical blood in our line, so Professor McGonagall visit wasn’t a humongous shock. Hermione has been levitating books into her crib as young as eighteen months. Our family members knew it to be just something she did. It wasn’t given extra attention or treated like it was something out of the ordinary, so she never thought it wasn’t the norm.

“When Hermione was in first grade, she asked if she was different. I told her she was different the way her father and I were different. I like lemongrass tea, while her father prefers earl grey. Hermione prefers to levitates things instead of actually walking to get them. A couples of years later Professor McGonagall came to our house but other than that Hermione has always been known for her brains and hardwork, not her magic.”

She spoke so nonchalantly Draco had a hard time hiding his shock. He had read about muggles who thought their children were possessed and tried to drown them or stab them with bits of wood. He had assumed all muggles were like that.

It must be nice having such easy going parents. Hermione being a witch to muggles parents would be the equivalent of him being a werewolf or merlin forbid, a squib to witches. He winced as he imagined his parents reaction to something like that. Would they abandon him? No, they loved him in their own way. It would not be easy, his father would be ashamed and his mother would cry but they would love him, right?

“Odd how you and your husband are both so… relaxed and Hermione…”

“Isn’t? We try to be more relaxed, especially when it comes to her studies. She’s very intense, though can you blame her? She was given a rare opportunity to join an actual magical world. Would you not read and study everything as much as you could?”

Draco thought about it for a moment. He imagined himself being invited to a strange world where  _ anything  _ seemed possible. Yeah, he’d probably be a swot too.

“I guess you have a point.”

“Good because the two of you are going to be spending the day together. My husband and I will be a dentist conference, which I swear on my great grandmother Betsy Sue’s grave you would not want to be anywhere near.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He drawled. What in the bloody hell is a dentist convention?

“My husband is convinced you two are going to kill each other.” She said matter of factly.

“I will try my very hardest to abstain from murdering your only child, Dr. Granger.” He replied dryly. She laughed in response.

“I think if you put aside your school houses, you would find that you two have more in common than you think.”

Draco scoffed.

“Hermione gets night terrors of her run in with a mountain troll in her first year at school.” Draco who was in middle of playing with his fork, froze. The rumors were true? Potter, Weasley, and Granger took on a fully grown mountain troll in first year? Everyone said that Professor Quirrell's announcement during the Halloween feast that year, had been an elaborate prank by Fred and George Weasley, apparently not.

“I thought that was a rumor?”

“I wish, the lovely Madam Pomfrey took good care of our Hermione and helped her work through her post traumatic stress from the ordeal.She still wakes up frightened sometimes but it’s rare. I know she doesn’t like Halloween, though she won’t talk about it.”

A fully grown mountain troll? As a first years? Most fully trained Aurors couldn’t handle a fully grown mountain troll.

“Wow.”

“That about covers it.” Granger fought a bloody mountain troll in first year. Of course she did, bet she would know what to do about the toothless wonder. Dr. Granger was looking at him thoughtfully and with a touch of concern. Draco hated when people were concerned for him. Severus did it and knowing what he did about his godfather, it made him uneasy.

“Are there any rules?”

“Rules?”

“For my  _ stay _ with you.” Draco didn’t mean to say the word ‘stay’ like it was poison but it slipped out. He wanted to hide somewhere, somewhere where there was no war. No Dark Lord and no mass murdering godfathers.

“Just behave yourself and stay with Hermione.” Of course stay with Granger. She’ll bloody protect you. Draco stared at his socked feet for several moments. “You aren’t being punished, Draco.”

Draco looked up. “What would make you think that?”

“Because you look as if I’m punishing you. We’re trying to protect you.”

Draco rolled leaned back against the sofa. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see his mother. He wanted to make sure she was alright. He wanted to not be afraid. He wanted….

“Your mother is fine Draco. She was here last night, but you were already asleep.” Draco looked up at her in surprise. Had he spoken aloud?

“She was here?” He whispered.

“Yes, she came with your godfather. Your father was… preoccupied. We spoke while your godfather was speaking to you.”

The room went silent as Draco stared dumbly at the woman.

“She’s fine, Draco.” Granger’s mother reiterated. “She was terribly worried about you, but otherwise she was fine.”

“Why didn’t she take me back with her?” She left him. She was here and she left him.

“She doesn’t think you’re safe at home. We just started discussing it when your godfather stormed in the room. I’m not sure what happened but he was pretty upset. He left to cool off and to bring back some of your things. I packed them away in the drawers earlier this morning. We still need to go out and buy you some regular street clothes but you should be covered for today. Tomorrow, the two of you will shop for some clothes.”

“My mother-”

Dr. Granger waved her arm dismissively. “Your mother said it was alright. She also sent you a letter. It’s tucked away in one of the drawers with money that she left you. Hermione will explain how you use the money later. It’s fairly simple.” She looked down at her watch, her eyebrows creasing much like her daughters during class. “I do have to leave if I’m going to make it to the first lecture on time. Do you have any questions, Draco?”

“Stay in this flat or Granger's. Don’t use magic. Don’t go outside unless you say so. Got it?” Dr Granger smiled and ruffled his hair. Draco was so shocked he froze in place.

“Try and relax, Draco. My family is on vacation and you look like you could use one.” Draco nodded as she stood and gathered all of her purse and small black box from underneath the coffee table. She opened her purse and pulled out a small rectangular object.  

“Hermione is in room 412, it’s directly opposite yours. Your room is 410 and mine is 411, it’s at the very end of the hallway. This is a key card.” She said, motioning to the object she had pulled from her purse. “All you have to do is slide it any of our room’s doors and it will open. There is a special slot for it above the handle. Just swipe it like this.”

She swiped the card up and down. “Hold for about two or three seconds, you should see a green light and then the door will unlock.”

Draco took the card from her. “The same key card will open multiple doors? That doesn’t seem safe.”

“The hotel programs the card to work for certain rooms and to not work for others.” A key that could work for some rooms and not others? Smart Muggles. “Also, we have an owl. Great Gatsby is in my room. You are more than welcome to utilize him, though I believe Hermione was planning on sending him to Ron this afternoon. Harry got into some trouble with the Ministry.”

Draco rolled his eyes. Of course, Potty got in trouble during his summer break. When was he not getting into trouble? “I don’t really have anyone to write to, but thanks.”

“Draco, dear,” she straightened. “Maybe you ought to send your godfather a letter. Thank him for bringing your stuff back. I’m pretty sure he stuffed sweets in the drawers under the tele.”

At his confused expression, she chuckled. She walked over to the black reflective box and pointed at it. “This is a tele. The proper name is television, there are some that call it a T.V. You can watch plays, sporting events, or news on there. It’s quite popular. Hermione will show you how to use it.”

“You can watch sporting events  _ on _ a tele?” he was baffled by the innocent looking box.

“Yes, it quite looks like the players are inside the tele. Much like your moving pictures, but this records and lets you view the entire game.”

Draco was speechless. “So mug- people just sit around and stare at this box?”

“Well, there’s often a bit of shouting when a games involved, but essentially yes.” The image of masses of muggles crowded around a black box and shouting at it made Draco’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

“You’re all barmy.” Granger’s mother laughed.

“I guess it’s a good think Hermione has a lot of books.” Elegantly, she put her purse strap over her shoulder. The door opened to admit Granger’s dad. Draco stood.

“Morning, Draco.”

“Good morning, Doctor Granger.”

“Please, I’m Doc and my wife is Doctor. Otherwise, it gets too confusing.” Draco smiled. It was getting confusing. “Are you ready dear wife of mine?”

“Yes, all ready.” She turned to Draco. “Please utilize the owl, Draco. I’m not sure what happened when the two of you spoke, but that man loves you like a son.”

The two adults left the room and Draco stood and rushed to the door as they left. He couldn’t let the door close. He’d be alone if it was closed. He didn’t want to be-

“How is he, dear?”

“Terrified,but putting on a brave front.”

“Poor thing.” Doc sighed. “Are you tired, love?”

“I’ve had longer sleepless nights when Hermione was a tot, remember?”

“Yes, and you sat up all night and sung her to sleep as well. We can pick up an espresso on our way to the lecture.”

“Sounds perfect.” There was a sucking noise and Draco realized that they kissed. He stumbled backwards letting the door shut in shock. Dr. Granger stayed with them the whole night? Draco crumbled with his back to the door. Why were Granger’s parents being so kind to him?

 

Hermione sat with a book in her hand reading excitedly. Professor McGonagall said that if she knew all the answers to this book of O.W.L test questions, she would be guaranteed an O. So far, she got most of the answers right and she was only three chapters in. Anything that was wrong was circled for later review. Hermione was confidant if she stuck to her revision schedule for the year she would get her required O’s. 

She needed her O’s so she could get into her required N.E.W.T courses. She needed to get O’s on her N.E.W.T’s so she could work at the Ministry. She needed to work at the Ministry so she could help the house elves, goblins, the werewolves, and every person being wronged by the Ministry. Just because they weren’t expressly witches or wizards didn’t make them any less of a person.

A knock on the door startled her from her revision questions. She was almost by the door when it opened. Malfoy already? She was hoping he would sleep in for a bit. She wasn’t ready to face him and she needed more time to get her emotions in order.

“Hermione, are you decent?” a familiar voice called from behind the door.

“Bart?”

“The one and only.” Hermione giggled before flopping down on her bed. Being on bed rest the worst but having Bart working the weekend made the entire experience so much more fun.

“Well come on in then. You better have brought snacks. My dad ate most of my breakfast.”

“I figured.” Bart appeared from behind the door with a covered tray underneath piles of bags of chips, candy and what she suspected was a lemon tart teetering at the very top. She stood and helped him put the loot down on the coffee table.

Bart slumped down on the couch after pulling three small books from his pockets. “Sheesh, this whole no elevator thing is a bummer.”

“Think of it positively. You’ll lose all the weight you constantly obsess over gaining.”

Bart laughed. “True.”

Hermione opened the brown cake box and squealed when she saw a fresh lemon tart. “Chef Poliakov, may the gods above bless your sweet bulgarian heart with longevity and many more of these tarts.”

Bart grabbed two plates and two spoons from inside the covered tray. Chef Poliakov already cut the tart into slices so the two friends scooped themselves each a piece and lounged on the bed.

“I swear, I never want to leave this place. I want to stay and eat Chef Po’s tarts and pies for the rest of my life.”

“Bart, you don’t think it odd that Chef Poliakov makes european confections rather than Bulgarian?”

“Nah, he’s probably trying to impress you.”

“Impress me?” Hermione giggled. He was definitely trying to impress someone but it wasn’t Hermione. What chef voluntarily works on a saturday when they don’t have to?

“Yeah, don’t you notice? He hangs around whenever you’re sitting around. You know, when he drops of his pies?” Hermione sipped her tea from her nightstand. She was smiling like a cheshire cat from above the rim. It took a couple of seconds for Bart to notice. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Funny. All the times he hangs around, I’m conveniently with you.”

“Well, that’s how I noticed it. Obv-”

“Bart.”

“What?”

“He doesn’t hang around me when  _ you  _ aren’t around.”

“What? That’s not possible.”

“He did stop me once to ask where you were…”

“I’m not believing this.”

“Yup. Chef Poliakov has a big old cru-”

 

Bart stuffed his fingers in his ears. “I’m not listening. I’m not listening.” He shouted over Hermione’s voice. Hermione reached to unplug his ears. She was tugging on his stubborn ears when Draco finally got the door to open. He stood in shock as he watched a pajama clad Granger jumping on top of a staff member from the hotel.

“No, Hermione! I’m not listening!”

“.... in a tree. K-I-S-” Hermione yelped as she was flipped over onto the bed by Bart. She giggled as he tickled her. Draco stood and stared. What the bloody hell was he watching? Was this even appropriate for him to be witnessing, was it foreplay of some sort? Was he a voyeur?

Seeing as the two hadn’t realized he had arrived, he coughed. When neither of them could hear him over their… squeals, he coughed a bit louder. Two pairs of eyes snapped towards him. They separated immediately mumbling apologies. Granger was a shade of scarlet worthy of her house.

“I hope I wasn’t… interrupting something.”

“No!” They both shouted.

“Bart brought lemon tart. Umm from Chef...” Hermione stuttered.

“I should get back to work. See you later, Hermione.” Bart scrambled out of the room, saluting his goodbye at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering I was really in the mood of lemon tart when I wrote this chapter. I made it the next day, it was good.
> 
> Many thanks and love to my amazing beta mrswren. Who thinks I should send her a lemon tart?


	8. Chapter 8: Fizzy Pop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco get into a tiff cuz like they're teenagers and stuff.
> 
> Thank you to my phenomenal beta mrsren who also doubles as my personal cheering squad. Love you girl!

#  **Chapter 8: Fizzy Pop**

 

The door shut behind Bart with a resounding clang. Hermione smoothed the front of her shirt down. The situation was incredibly awkward without Draco Malfoy being in the room.

“Umm… so….”

“I don’t want to know, Granger, honestly.”

“We weren’t -” Hermione’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Just remember to use protection, Granger…” he was smirking and Hermione fought the urge to smack the smirk off of his face.

“Would you like a piece of lemon,” _do not say tart! “_ pie? _”_

“Were you going to say tart, Granger?”

“I wasn’t aware we were talking about Pansy.” Draco chuckled at her attempt at being sassy.

“Nicely done, Granger. But no, I do not want lemon tart. Your mother said you had reading material. She also said you would teach me how to use a tele. Feel free not to.”

“Book over tele type?” She smiled. Of course he was, he was second behind her in class scores.

“What does that mean?” Malfoy drawled.

“A tele is mind numbing. People like to watch it because it offers very little stimuli to the brain. It gives people a chance to relax.”

“So given that I prefer book over your tele, I’m smart?” he smirked.

“Not necessarily, it just means your brain wants to be stimulated rather than vegetate.”

“Interesting.” Malfoy picked up her O.W.L’s revision book. Uncle Severus had sent him home with the same book. He was stuck on chapter four, though. There were parts of Defense Against the Dark Arts that he hadn’t covered in school and he needed to study on his own. Why one of the greatest magical school’s in the world couldn’t hold onto a Defense teacher was beyond him. “What chapter are you up to?”

“I’m almost done chapter three. Anthony Goldstein said that chapter four and chapter seven are the hardest. I’m a bit nervous, but I think together we should be able to work through it.” Draco almost laughed at Granger freely admitting to a personal fault. No one in Slytherin would do that. They were trained from a young age to hide their insecurities, rather than wear them on their sleeves like a badge of honor. Instead of addressing her predictable Gryffindor boldness, he searched his memory for information on Goldstein. He was pretty sure he was in their year.

“Goldstein is the blonde Ravenclaw, right?” Granger nodded. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She looked like she did in first year before Madame Hooch forced her to get on her broom and lift off the ground. So basically, nerves jumbled with a lot of stuttering.

“My dad… I… We can’t be fighting all the time if we’re going to be spending so much time together. We need to settle… to settle a…”

Draco took pity on her. “A truce?”

“Yes, a truce.” Granger looked at him like he was a basilisk about to petrify her. He held back the urge to roll his eyes at her.

“Well, I happen to be up to the fourth chapter of that book.” Granger’s face lit up.

“Really?” She gasped. He nodded in reply. “Have you read the bit about a practical exam? I’m so nervous. I was practicing counter jinxes and defensive spells before the term ended in a spare classroom on the third floor. Now I’m just practicing wand movements and applicable literature. I have my time table arranged for once Hogwarts begins, but it’s just so much material to study. That’s not even taking into account new material and assignments for the year. I heard from Percy Weasley that Professor Snape gave an assignment two weeks before O.W.Ls! I wonder if he’ll give me a list of all the homework assignments for the year so I could get a head start on them. I mean -”

Draco was staring at Granger in shock. How did that many words come out of such a small person in such a short amount of time? Draco was starting to understand why the Weasel always looked miserable. He was being talked to death on a daily basis, that and he totally had a thing for Granger. She was obviously oblivious. Weasel and Granger were a running joke in the Slytherin common room.

“Sorry, I tend to ramble on.” Another fault. “Would you like to sit on the couch?”

It took Draco a second to realize she was talking about studying. Rather than answer, Draco moved to sit on the right side of the loveseat. It was identical to the one in his room, actually the room in its entirety was identical to his room. Granger slouched down next to him bringing several thin little black and white spotted books with her, the pattern reminded him of a dalmation. She open a small bag and withdrew a black cylinder with a point at the end. He stared at it in confusion, when she proffered the alien item _to him_. She wiggled it when he didn’t take it.

“Take it, Malfoy.”

“What exactly is it that I am taking?’

“Oh, sorry. It’s called a pen. It’s like a quill, it’s used to write. These are notebooks, they’re meant for writing on, you know, instead of parchment. They’re much easier to use and they’re much easier to store. This notebook is actually called a composition notebook.”

Leaning over, she placed the pen in his left hand. She fixed his fingers around the pen, arranging them in the same manner that he would hold a quill.

“You know I’m left handed?” He was surprised to say the least.

Granger’s cheeks flushed pink.“We sat opposite each other in study hall in second year. Also, I notice other left handed people.”

“You’re left handed?”

“No, I’m ambidextrous. Though, the only thing it’s really useful for is a reprieve from one hand to the other when I’m writing long essays.”

Impressed, he clutched onto the pen. She opened his composition notebook. He was pleasantly surprised that the interior of the notebook did not match the exterior. The pages were bleached white and empty besides the rows of even horizontal blue lines. There was also, one solitary vertical red line close to the binding. He traced it with his free hand thoughtfully.

“It’s for notes, that area is called the margin.” he nodded at her and set his pen onto the paper. It glided smoothly across the page.

_Draco Malfoy_

“Ready?” She asked excitedly.

“To study with Granger?”

“I’m just excited you actually want to study. My friends don’t usually want to study.”

“My father is on the board of governors, Granger.”

“So?”

“I can’t exactly get bad grades. It will reflect badly on him.”

“If he’s on the board can’t he just change them?”

“No…” He said shortly. She had unknowingly, hit a nerve. His father definitely could change his scores but he wouldn’t on principle. He had that made that very clear to Draco before attending his first year. He was to ask the sorting hat to be put in Slytherin, and he was to be the top five academically in his year. There were no exceptions. If he needed tutoring he could speak to Uncle Severus in his private quarters.

He was not allowed to talk to Mudbloods. He could taunt and bully, but nothing more. He could associate with Half-bloods, but they were not to be so close as to consider themselves friends. Blood traitors were worse than Mudbloods. Like all Purebloods, he had to memorize the names of every student at Hogwarts and their status before the term began. His friends were carefully hand picked for him, like everything else in his life.

Annoyed he stormed into the bathroom and closed the door. Rinsing water on his face he used the loo and left after several minutes of breathing heavily to himself in the mirror.

“Are you ready?” She asked. He nodded stiffly as they started their studying session.

Granger was an all around sound study partner. She was knowledgeable over the vast majority of subjects, making her an adequate conversationalist. Rather than get frustrated when he didn’t know something, she slowed down explained it to him and ensured he knew the material properly before moving on to the next topic. She didn’t stray off topic, didn’t stare at flies, and didn’t try to feel him up under the table. Bloody handsy Pansy. The witch was an absolute nightmare.

The duo studied straight through lunch, pausing only to stop their debate about the hand movements for the Riddikulus charm when someone, not Bart the barman, brought up lunch. Granger thanked the worker and escorted him out. Draco found her odd need to verbalize gratitude when someone did their job adequately redundant.

The two sat on the floor around the coffee table eating a hearty stew. Initially, Draco gawked at the idea of eating on the floor but after Granger’s lengthy speech about Asian dining etiquette and embracing other cultures, he sat just to shut her up. Besides the passable stew, they were given a small loaf of bread each and an odd green fizzy drink that Draco wasn’t all too fond of.

After a mostly silent lunch, they returned to the couch.

“Are you going to drink that?”

“No, it’s foul.”

“Really? I quite like it.”

“Why don’t you ring them and ask them for another one?” Draco had to hand it to the Muggles the telephone was much easier to use than Floo calling. The portable tele, a mobile it was called, was nothing short of genius.

Granger smirked at his mention of Muggle technology. She enjoyed educating him on Muggle technology. He was pretty sure she enjoyed his shock more than anything else, though.

“Glad to see you’re joining the modern age,” he was right. “But why would I order another one, if you aren’t going to drink yours?”

Draco looked at her dumbly. What in the bloody hell was she getting at?

Granger reached and plucked his drink from his hand. Draco watched in shock, disgusted shock mind you, as she took a sip and smiled to herself. “This stuff is delicious and of course I’m not going to be able to find it back at home. I wonder if it would be appropriate if I asked Elena to send me some via Floo. I’m sure Mrs. Weasley -”

The mention of the Weasel matriarch burst the damn he had been treading water in front of, while she prattled on.

“Granger, what the bloody hell are you doing?!” His voice was raised louder than he intended and Granger dropped the drink in shock. The glass bounced on the carpet, emptying it’s contents onto the carpet but not breaking.

“Shite.” Granger cursed and scrambled onto the floor trying to clean up the spilled liquid from the floor using the napkins from the coffee table. Realizing that it was too much liquid she dashed to the bathroom and returned with a towel.

She was still cursing to herself and dabbing the floor with the towel when Draco started up again.  “You didn’t answer my question?”

“What are you talking about and why the bloody hell did you shout? You scared me!”

“You… you…” They shared a drink. It was… he was… she was….

“You- what?”

Throwing his hands in the air, he shouted. “You drank from my drink!”

Granger gaped at him like he was actively growing a second head.

“ _That’s_ why you were yelling? All because I drank from your drink? Are you mental?”

“I’m mental?! You can’t drink from my… it’s not… you’re a...”

A light flickered in Granger’s eyes as if she finally understood why he was upset. She stumbled up from the floor vehemently throwing her towel on the couch. Her eyes were dark and furious, her hands clenched into tiny fists.

“Say it!”

“Say what?” Draco feigned ignorance. How had things spiraled so quickly? They were getting on well enough.

“Tell me why you’re so upset I drank from your bloody drink that _you_ were finished with.” She spat.

“I don’t -”

“Say it!”

Draco thought back to waking up terrified in the hospital. Doctor Granger sat with him. She was kind and compassionate and didn’t care that he was a Pureblood from a family that hated her and her family. He thought of Granger’s dad excitedly showing him the shifts and the gears in the elevator. The Granger family offered to take him in, when his own family would have hunted hers rather than help them.

He looked at Granger, her arms were crossed against her chest. She was seething beneath her reddened cheeks and parted lips. Granger, smart sweet Granger. The girl who spent the entire morning helping understand complicated Runes.

Insulting her wasn’t what it used to be. She wasn’t Potter’s Mud- friend. She was a real person. She had a family. She wasn’t just a swotty bookworm. She was an avid wine drinker who wore strange pajamas and liked fizzy drinks and lemon tart.

Draco was about to make up an excuse about cleanliness and apologize, when her sleeves rode up revealing her arms. Pale flesh stared back at him and he was reminded of Severus’s scarred flesh. Flesh that would most likely soon reflect his own, that was if he and his parents were forgiven _._

He couldn’t be kind to her. He couldn’t form any sort of… attachments. Not when he knew what was coming. The war. What would happen if and when he was drafted? He would have to hunt Muggles and Mud- Muggleborns. He couldn’t be attached. Any hesitation would result in suspicion on his family. The Dark Lord would murder his family, or worse he would make him do it.

He couldn’t get attached. He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Setting his jaw and ignoring the screaming in his chest, he sneered at her. “A Mudblood. You’re a Mudblood and you shouldn’t be touching my things.”

Her eyes blinked furiously as they watered. Draco held his ground until he couldn’t anymore. “What, Granger? No hissy fit?”

“You…” Her tears were threatening to fall and Draco was at war with himself. His mind told him that if she cried than he won. Buried deep within his chest cavity was a pang of something that wanted to take back what he said, to apologise and to beg forgiveness. His chest constricted as she fought her tears.

When they started to overflow, Draco’s heart fell. His sneer was still in place as she pushed passed him and into the bathroom. The door slammed and he listened to her scrambling to turn the faucet on. It took several moments, but he could hear her tears even with the water running.

 _That’s her place and she would do well to know it._ His mind scolded him. He leaned back against the wall with a small thump.

“Get out!” She shouted from beyond the bathroom. He didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing his keycard and his studying things he hurried from the room. As her door shut behind him, the voice in his head did happy cartwheels. He was horrified to note, that the voice in his mind sounded very much like his father.

 

Hermione sat on the toilet with her head in her hands. They were having such a nice morning. She was actually enjoying herself with Malfoy. It was not a sentence she ever thought she would hear herself saying.

They were studying together, he surprised her by actually being funny. He had a dry humor, that unless you were listening closely, would miss altogether. He didn’t speak of his family and rarely his friends. When he did speak of his _friends_ from school, he spoke of them like they were contracted. There was little to no emotion, and when there was it was usually to get a rise out of her.

She could see him struggling with himself when she dropped the fizzy pop. He had called her a Mudblood before and it hadn’t affected her, why it suddenly did was a mystery. Rather than let her had unravel the mysteries that was Draco Malfoy she turned on the shower and gingerly stepped letting the hot water pour down her back, alleviating the tension there.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew what his father was. Harry told her that Lucius Malfoy was at the graveyard when Voldemort was resurrected. He most likely was going to be drafted soon. Hermione leaned her head against the shower wall.

She could hear Ron’s voice in her head. “He’s not yours to save, Mione. Leave the git alone.”

Why did people decide who was worthy to save and who wasn’t? Why was everyone not worthy? Why did only the Gryffindor’s get to be brave and the Ravenclaw’s brainy? Why were Slytherin’s innately evil? Sure, Salazar Slytherin put a giant snake in the school whose sole purpose was to murder students, who he deemed unworthy. But wasn’t everyone their own person? Why did everyone have to be herded like sheep?

Just because house elves were slaves, as long as anyone can remember doesn’t make it right. So what if a werewolf had to take off two or three days a month? Hermione had a neighbor who was a nurse. Her menstrual cycle was so intense, she had to take three days off a month. No one complained, she wasn’t docked pay or put on probation. She was paid for the hours she worked and she wasn’t paid for her time that she didn’t.

Why couldn’t the world be kinder? Why couldn’t everyone get along? Why did Malfoy -

“Hermione?” Hermione cursed as she slipped in the tub. Nearly falling, she grabbed onto the railing to stop her fall.

“Bart?” She called.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you almost done in there?”

Hermione turned off the water and hurried out of the tub. Dumping her dirty clothes in the laundry basket under the sink, she slipped into the white fluffy robe hanging on the door. Hermione took one last look at her reflection in the mirror before opening the door.

Her eyes weren’t too puffy. Her entire body was red from the heat of the shower. She could easily blame any redness on her shower. She smiled at Bart, who was sitting on her bed. He looked her over once before his eyebrows knitting together angrily.

“Did that git make you cry?” Bart stood up and Hermione hurried over before he could make his way to the door. Bart was protective as he was good looking. Hermione gently pushed him back onto the bed.

“His family… they don’t like mine.” She said, as she plopped down next to him.

“My family doesn’t like me and you don’t see me taking it out on everyone I meet. Also, why is he staying with you if your families don’t like each other?” Hermione thought back to when she first saw Draco in the hospital. He was hooked up to so many wires, she had forgotten that he was mean to her in school. All her thoughts were directed towards the person who was sick, sitting next to her.

“He needed help and my parents offered it.”

“You know Ivo, the bellhop?” Hermione nodded. “His brother, Yasen works as a nurse for the hospital. He said that your mother claimed him as a dependent. She said she was close friends with his parents, that was obviously a lie. Hermione, what’s going on? Are you in trouble?”

“I’m not, but he is. He was attacked and somehow ended up in Bulgaria. His parents had no idea where he was.”

“I had a feeling. I did some searching on the name Malfoy. Did you know the Malfoy family are one of the oldest and richest families in Europe?” Hermione nodded sadly. She knew all about the wealth the Malfoy family came with. His father bought the entire Slytherin team new brooms in second year, just because Draco made the team. “Was he kidnapped? Is the MI-6 involved? Oh god, are you a spy? Are you parents not really dentists? Shite, I spilled a drink on your dad once. Is he going to murder me in my sleep? Promise me he’ll do it before I go to work, I don’t want to work a whole day and _then_ be murdered. It’s a waste I tell you-”

Bart was bouncing up and down on Hermione’s bed, as he panicked. Hermione mind supplied her with images of her father and his rounded belly jumping out of a helicopter with a rifle and a parachute. In her mind, he was holding a can of pringles in one hand and bacon jerky in the other. The idea was so ridiculous she burst into a fit of giggles. Her amusement stopped his rant.

“No, Bart, they’re regular dentists. I ran into Draco injured, on the boardwalk whilst I was reading. Everything kind of snowballed after that. We ended up in the hospital and my parents just took him in. He can’t go home now, it’s not safe. He doesn’t have anywhere to go, he’s alone.”

Bart was quiet for several moments. “So that gives him an excuse to be mean to you?”

“No, but I can understand why he’s scared. His godfather came to ask my parents to keep him in their care while he tried to find whomever attacked him. I overheard them talking and they’re scared for him to go home in August. I’m going to visit Ron and Harry in August, but my parents already extended the invitation for him to stay. His parents think they won’t be able to hide him for so long.” Hermione clamped her mouth shut, when she realized she was revealing too much to Bart, who was essentially a human. How was she supposed to explain the war that was coming? How could she tell him to take his sister and flee? Flee to America, or somewhere beyond Voldemort’s reach. With magic, was there anywhere beyond his reach?

“You do that, you know?”

“Do what?”

“Shut down and get quiet. It’s like you’re guarding this all encompassing secret.” Hermione gulped nervously. “And it’s alright if you are, Hermione. Everyone has their secrets. Just don’t let Draco push you around, don’t let anyone push you around. You’re Hermione Jean Granger. You’re smarter and better looking than everyone else.”

Hermione laughed. Bart kissed her forehead and made to leave the room. “Bart, how did you know I was upset?”

“Maintenance heard the two of you shouting. You've got the temper of a lioness, Hermione." Bart rubbed his hands through his hair. "Good news though, elevator is almost fixed. I slipped out of my shift. I’ll see you for a drink later?” Hermione nodded and watched as Bart laughed. She slumped down on her bed and thought. What was she supposed to do about Malfoy?

Even though she understood why he said it, she couldn’t just let the argument go. It wasn’t right. He couldn’t say just say things like that and expect everything to be okay afterwards. Hermione sat quietly thinking to herself.

She was in the shower for a while. What if he had come back? What if he left? Hermione sat up in alarm, at the thought. Shite. What if he left. Not bothering to put on slippers she dashed out of her room and pounded on his door. Shite. Shite.

She forgot her key. Shite.

“Shite. Shite. Shite.” Hermione cursed at the closed door.

“Do you usually run like a mad witch through hallways cursing at doors?” Hermione whirled around. Malfoy was leaning against the post next to her door.

“You’re still here?” She breathed.

“Where would I go?” His pained whisper struck a chord in Hermione. She was fully in the right to be angry. She could fight with him and she could make matters worse. Or she could try and start a new leaf? Something set him off when they were eating lunch. Earlier in the day, his father set him off and she was careful not bring him up. She didn’t want a repeat performance.

“Granger?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re really skating on thin ice.”

“Pardon me?”

“With Bar boy.” Hermione felt the blood drain from her face.

“You heard that?”

“Yes, I was coming to… to apologize and I heard voices. I thought your parents came back early and - did you forget your keycard, Granger?”

“Yes.” Malfoy rolled his eyes. Swiping his own card, he let her back into her room. Hermione sat down on the edge of her bed. Malfoy paced for a bit. Hermione was about to ask him what was wrong when he stopped and turned around to face her. Wringing his hands in front of him, something Hermione had never seen Draco Malfoy do, he spoke.

“I was on my way back to your room when I heard you and the bar boy speaking.” Hermione started to speak but he held up a hand. “Let me speak. I was unfair to you today. I was on my way back to apologize. I don’t want to be like my father and that was something he would have done. Did you know I’ve never actually met a muggle before I woke up in the hospital? Not that it excuses what I said. It’s easy to hate something when you’ve never experienced it, when you’re ignorant of it.”

Hermione sat quietly watching Malfoy run his hands through his hair. “When I came to Hogwarts, I was confused. You were supposed to be inferior because of your blood. If that was true than why were you the smartest in our year? How was it possible to steal magic, if magic was in your blood?”

Hermione looked at Malfoy sadly. Prejudice, cowardess, and close minded witches and wizards. “I’m sorry.”

"Why are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry your parents raised you the way they did. I’m sorry that they are who they are and I’m sorry for the side your father chose.”

Malfoy went pale. “You don’t -”

“Harry said your father was there in the graveyard, the night Voldemort returned.” Malfoy flinched at the mention of Voldemort’s name. “Fear of a name only increases the fear itself.”

“I’m torn.” He whispered, as he collapsed beside her. “I want to run away from all of this, but I also can’t leave my mother. I… she’s my mother.”

Hermione nodded at him. “I’m sorry, Malfoy.”

“Me too.” Malfoy collapsed his head into his hands.

Hermione placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She was about to talk to him, to reassure him that there was always help for those who needed it. She thought about suggesting he speak to Sirius. They were extended cousins weren’t they? Sirius would help his cousin, wouldn’t he?

“Malfoy, do you know who Sir-” The door slammed open making Hermione screech and fall off the bed. Hermione’s parents bounded into the room, wide smiles on their faces.

“How was your day kiddos? We found sushi! Umm…” Hermione’s dad was frozen staring at his daughter on the floor.

“Hermione Jean Granger, where the bloody hell are your clothes?!” Mum looked like she was about to set the entire room ablaze.

“Er… The fizz drink spilled on my clothes. I took a shower.” At the incredulous looks on both of her parents faces she shut her mouth, then she made the mistake of opening it again. “Bart was here! He saw me in the shower!”

“Merlin, Granger shut up! You’re making it much worse. Doctors Granger, your daughter dropped the vile green drink they served at lunch on herself and the carpet. If memory serves, there should still be a stain and the towel on the couch. I was not in the same room as your daughter at any point during her... immodesty and neither was the bar boy.”

Hermione’s father walked over to the couch. Hermione could see her mum staring at her father, her face unreadable. The whole room was taught with tension as they waited for dad’s voice. It was silent for several moments while Hermione prayed to every known deity that Bart didn’t clean up the mess while she was in the shower.

“Honey?” Mum prompted. Dad whirled around to face her, his crestfallen eyes meeting hers.  

“Seriously, you wasted the green fizzy drink? It’s delicious! I’m trying to find a supplier in-” Hermione’s mum stalked over to her dad and promptly boxed him around the ears. “Ouch! Bloody woman, what was that for?”

“Why did you make us all wait?”

“I was trying to see if any of it could be salvaged! It’s a tragedy is what it is! I’m calling room service and ordering more. We can mourn the loss of our one green soldier by drinking his brethren!”

Hermione raised her eyebrows at her mum. “Someone gave him a compliment at the route or root canal panel, when he asked a question.”

“No,” Hermione moaned. “He’s going to be like this all week. Why didn’t he wear his t-shirt?”

“What t-shirt?” Malfoy finally found his voice.

“My, ‘I get too excited from compliments, my family asks you don’t give me any t-shirt.” Malfoy laughed. “I’m not joking. I have three of them in case one gets dirty.”

Malfoy looked at her. “Is your dad joking? Please tell me he’s joking.”

“He’s not. I bought him one, my mum bought him the second, and my great aunt bought him the third.” That was hands down the funniest christmas gift Hermione had ever seen. Malfoy burst out laughing, while dad looked only slightly affronted.

“Alright, enough you three. Hermione put on clothes, Draco help my husband carry the food to our room. I’m hungry.” Mum snapped.

 

**~**

 

Sunday morning Draco woke early and hurried over to Granger’s room. She ordered two breakfasts and the two started working on their O.W.L prep. Granger wrote detailed and diligent notes. It took a bit to get used to her shorthand but soon he was writing faster than her. Their temporary truce lasted much longer than Draco thought it would.

Granger’s parents started their panels later today, so they were enjoying a bit of a lie in. At noon Doc and Doctor Granger arrived and asked if the teens wanted to go out for pizza. Granger declined because she didn’t want to get out of her pajamas. Draco declined because he had no idea what it was. The two adults left to get their pizza, while Granger ordered room service.

When they returned from their _pizza_ trip, Doctor Granger sat Draco down to explain what a lev was and how it worked. Each paper was a different color with a number and a picture on it. Some pictures were of people, some of boats por buildings, and some had both.

“Okay, so just match up the numbers in the corner with the price.” She finished.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“And it’s called a _lev_ ? _”_

“Yes, in the UK we use the pound. Four dollars and ninety three cents is equal to one galleon and one sickle is worth twenty nine cents on the pound.”

“I still can’t believe they have a conversion rate for Muggle and magical money.”

“Why wouldn’t they? Where do you think magical produce comes from?” Draco was silent. He had never thought of that. The house elves always just had the food.

“Alright dear, are you ready to go?” Doc called. Doctor Granger said her goodbyes and left with her husband. They returned later that night to find the two teenagers exactly where they left them earlier that day.

 

Hermione hurried up into the lounge library. Bart was sitting with a smile next to the corner bookshelf. “Oh no, what did you do?”

Bart smiled widely. “I see many more lemon tarts in your future from Chef Poliakov.”

“You learnt his name?” Hermione squealed.

“Hard not to when I stuck my tongue down his throat.” Bart said thoughtfully. Hermione covered her mouth so she would scream with excitement in middle of the library.

“Tell me everything!” She ordered. Hermione listened dutifully, as he detailed complimenting Chef Po on his lemon tart and the chat he worked up with him.

“... and then I casually said, hey guess what? Hermione thinks we’d make the cutest couple!”

Hermione gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I really did. He was so flabbergasted. Not a hundred percent sure what happened after that, but I’ll be honest my backside made a rather painful connection with several tins of tomato sauce in the back closet.”

The two went on to discuss Chef Poliakov for almost a half an hour.

“He’s sweet, but don’t start ringing wedding bells Hermione. Relationships take time.” Hermione rolled her eyes over her third drink. “So, how’s your pale, blonde, and obscenely rich problem?”

“I’m not sure he is a problem. He apologized by the way.”

“Did he explain why he was acting like a prick?”

“I think he’s lonely and he misses his family.”

“Maybe take him somewhere that reminds him of home?”

Hermione say quietly for several minutes. Home. She knew he lived in a bloody castle in Wiltshire, but would he appreciate looking at other peoples castles? It wasn’t as if she could use bloody magic-

“Bart, where was the magician you were talking about last week?”

“Center of Main and Second, by the water fountain. He has shows every day of the week at noon. Now get out of here, I have a shift early tomorrow morning and apparently I need my beauty sleep.”

Hermione hugged him good night and giggled, as she hurried back to her room and to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9: Let the Rain Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Granger's kick the kids out of the house because hermits who like to read won't do it on their own, usually. (Shyly raises hand in solidarity from the corner)
> 
> Many thanks to my midnight consultant, the ever patient, and wonderful MrsRen, the bestest beta-er there is!

#  **Chapter 9: Let the Rain Fall**

 

The sun was shining through the porch doors Monday morning. Doctor Granger looked over at her sleeping husband and smiled at his sleeping form. She still couldn’t believe that she married the pretentious overachieving guy she hated from University.

They had started the same year and in the same class in undergrad. Given that they were both scholarship students with chips on their shoulders, they became rivals almost immediately. Almost ten years together in the same schooling track saw the two of them through a lot of hate, jealousy, and then eventually a soft and  tender love.

She was reminiscing old days in school when her husband’s sleepy voice cut through her thoughts. “How long have you been up?”

“Not too long, thinking about dental school.”

“You’re not about to bring up the time I threw my forceps at you, are you?” She rolled her eyes at her husband of over twenty years.

“Well I wasn’t. You did bring it up -”

“I distinctly recall you calling me lumpy in front of the entire bloody football team!” They both chuckled at the memory. He had forgiven her years ago for that particular insult. It was part of a truce that included the great forceps incident.

_Bloody class initiation. Why the bloody hell they needed the roster for the athletic team was beyond her. They could just ask Coach Winstock, he’d be more than happy to supply it. Taking a deep breath, she hurried into the locker room. Hm… she expected it to smell like socks. It smelled… sterile._

_Okay, she just had to copy the list and leave before anyone saw her. Carefully reading the list posted on the door, she scribbling the names down on a notepad. She had just finished the last page when someone tapped her shoulder._

_“Last I checked this was a boy’s locker room.” Shite. Shite. Please don’t be that vile Granger boy. Please don’t be Granger, anyone else. Please-_

_She turned around to come face to face with Granger. The obnoxious boy from home room that morning. “Granger.”_

_“You remember me?” He replied happily. She rolled her eyes. Trying not to look at his puppy-happy face. Only then did she notice that he was not wearing a shirt._

_“Like what you see?” Her cheeks were aflame. Don’t look. Stop looking._ ** _Stop_** **_looking_** _._

_“Actually, Granger, I was going to ask how you made it onto the athletic team. What with you being all lumpy and all.” She scuttled out of the room, leaving a spluttering Granger and a chorus of riotous laughter behind her._

At this point in their marriage, old fights were reminisced and thought over as, mostly, fondly. The only time they actually bickered was about Hermione and about her husband’s health. Honestly, his health bit was mostly one sided. She pleaded and switched out foods and he politely ignored her and ordered take away.

“I can’t wait to head back out to the conference. This weekend’s consults were far too long. I really wanted to come to learn, not to teach.” She complained. Her husband sat up in bed leaning his head against the headboard.

“Hmm….” Her husband was grinning his, ‘I’m plotting something’ smile.

“No.”

“I haven’t even said anything, wifey dearest.”

“Whatever it is you want to say, I veto it. I veto it to the millionth power.”

“You can’t veto something to the millionth power. It doesn’t exist.”

“It does now.”

“You haven’t even heard my idea.”

“Does it have to do with teaching dentistry?”

“Nope.” Her husband smiled.

“Does it have to do with advising dentistry?”

“Nope.” His smile was growing wider.

“Is it something that will make me mad?”

“How am I supposed to know what will make you mad?” He shrugged, his smile still prevalent on his face underneath his mountain of bed head.

“Seeing as you’re the leading expert, I would think you would have figured it out by now.” She snipped.

Her husband waggled his eyebrows. “Funny this one is.”

They were silent for several seconds. He was waiting for her to ask. She would not ask. She wouldn’t. She most certainly would not-

“Fine. What it is your brilliant idea?” She groaned at how easy she caved.

“I think we should force Hermione and Draco outdoors today and tomorrow. It’s clear skies, we’ll force them to go outside and talk to living people.”

“You are joking right?” Telling two hermit bookworms to leave their hidey holes was how revolutions were started. She was pretty sure anyway.

“Nope. They’ve been indoors so long their skins have actually gotten paler. Goodness knows, Draco can’t afford to get any whiter.”

“You realize they are going to freak when we take away their precious hidey reading holes, right?” She scolded him. The news was not going to be taken well by either teenager.

“They’re going to start bickering soon from sheer cabin fever.”

“Must you kick the hornet’s nest?” She eyed her husband pensively. He saw something in Draco Malfoy the moment the two met. While she wasn’t going to openly disagree with her husband, she wasn’t sure if an over entitled bully was someone she wanted her daughter spending that much time with.

“I think that’s a tad dramatic.” He responded, whilst shimmying out of the warm comforter.

Obviously she would never abandon the poor boy. Listening to him cry out in the night had threatened to break her heart. His cries provoked her maternal instincts and despite barely getting any sleep the week before she stayed by his side the entire night, gently easing him back into his fitful sleep. The poor boy was unused to being shown affection and she almost wished his mother would return so she could give him a piece of her mind.

Neglect came in many different forms and while this boy clearly wanted for nothing, his parents were emotionally neglecting him. Not that Hermione needed another emotional battle so soon after Viktor.

“I’m worried about Hermione’s emotional health.”

“I get that, I do, but I think Draco is a good distraction for her. She tends to overthink things. Hard to overthink your ex, when you have your hands full with a boy who can barely figure out how to work a key card.”

She laughed at her husband. Last night when he made a run for ice, he found Draco in the hallway fighting with his door. She hopped out of bed and linked her fingers in her husband’s. “Well, let’s go give our two bookworms the wonderful news.”

  
~

 

“Doctor Granger this is absolutely ridiculous!”

 “Mum, why am I being punished? Did something happen? Did Professor McGonagall send a letter?”

 Malfoy and Hermione both cried over her parent’s voices. Hermione’s mum raised her hand.

 “Neither of you are being punished. You have been inside this hotel since Friday afternoon and for Monday and Tuesday neither of you are allowed inside the hotel.”

 “But it’s boiling hot outside!” Hermione protested. “What if I get heat stroke?”

 “Wear something light?” Her dad shrugged his shoulders.

 “What if it rains?” Malfoy was being oddly silent as she panicked. His face was contemplative, as if he was planning something. As Hermione fired off questions he was strategically thinking of a way to circumvent the new rule her parents were forcing on them.

 “It won’t,” her father chirped happily. “I checked the forecast hot with clear skies. Perfect day for exploring and the beach. Don’t even think about hiding out in a library. We called that one you like to go to. In case you’re curious he quite agrees with us, at least I think that was what he said.”

 Hermione dropped her head onto the table. Why? Why did the universe hate her? Had she offended it somehow?

 “Doc, I don't have anything to wear to the beach.”

 “Perfect! Hermione will take you shopping to find something appropriate. You two can make a day of it. Hermione, you have the credit card and your mobile is charged, right?”

 Hermione nodded miserably at her mum. She was planning another day of studying with Malfoy and then gossiping with Bart, but apparently she was now going to entertaining the beach, with no books!

 “Finish eating you two!” Her mum barked.

 “I haven’t had a morning shower, Doctor Granger.” Malfoy finished his oatmeal and was drinking his latte with more grace than Hermione had in her entire lifetime.

 “Okay, you can take a shower but I want you both out of these rooms by eleven. Hermione, you may _not_ go back to your room. Neither of you are to read books or stay indoors today.”

 Hermione sunk into her chair. Weren’t parents supposed to love you?

 “One non school book is allowed on the beach, under the sun, and only while accompanied with a fruity alcohol drink.” Looking at her daughter’s face, her mother amended her no book rule. Hermione rolled her eyes. One book, how the bloody hell was she supposed to pick one book?

 Her parents hugged her goodbye and left for the day, Malfoy trailing behind them. The convention was a forty minute drive and started at eight. While Hermione wasn’t unaccustomed to breakfast at a quarter to seven on a holiday, it wasn’t the worst thing. Taking away her books when she hadn’t done anything wrong was.

 Hermione stared at the wall for several minutes before boredom hit her. Bart, thankfully, had a morning shift. Hermione hurried back to her room and filled her purse with her phone, the charger, a tourist map, her wallet, her wand, her keycard. She inspected the bag of beach stuff that her parent’s dropped off that morning, ensuring that there was sunscreen. On her way out of the room, she did a quick check in the mirror to make sure she hadn’t spilled any breakfast on her orange tank top or her cream khakis. Satisfied, she hurried downstairs to the adult lounge.

 Bart was tending to the bar, his hair slicked back and his clothes noticeably less rumpled. Hermione smiled as she slid into the last seat at the bar.

 “Nice to see you out on this fine day.” He smiled. Hermione rolled her eyes, of course her parents warned him. “I heard you aren’t allowed in the library today. Shame.”

 “Funny. I actually came for your morning special.” His morning special was a mimosa of sorts. Heavy on the alcohol and less on the fruity bits. Hermione had a high tolerance for alcohol and she made use of it.

 With a totally unnecessary flourish he handed her the drink. She smiled over the rim as he plucked an umbrella in as an afterthought. “Thought you could use this. Heard the two of you are spending the day together. That should be… interesting.”

 “His moods are so… urghhh… I can’t handle him sometimes.”

 “Must you handle him, though?”

 “What do you mean?”

 “Why don’t you relax a bit. Let him be grumpy or mad or whatever he is and work it out himself. Your friends Harry and Ron rely on you a bit too much if you ask me.”

 “Harry’s an orphan and Ron is literally the bottom of his familial food chain.”

 “I still can’t believe none of Harry’s teacher’s ever reported his aunt and uncle to child services.”

 “Honestly, if I hadn’t met the Dursleys on the way to boarding school I wouldn’t have believed the things Harry told us about them. If he didn’t come home one summer, they’d probably throw a party.”

 “I still can’t believe they kept him under the stairs. I have an old mate of mine that went to Smeltings. His brother is currently there, so I asked him about your friend’s cousin.” Bart made a disgusted face.

 “What?”

 “He said he’s the literal embodiment of a pig. Said he’s completely put off of food when the things eats. I told him about your friend Harry and he says he’s gonna pull a couple of pranks on the wanker, mind my language.”

 “No minding needed. Honestly, I wish I could just adopt Harry into my home. I mean we have more than enough space.” She looked behind her to see if Draco came down yet. When she was sure the coast was clear, she leaned over and whispered to Bart. “My parents and my friend, Ron’s parents have actually written to the headmaster several times about it. Neither of our parents agree with his decision to keep sending Harry back each summer.”

 “I agree with them and I still don’t get how the headmaster of your school has control over his custody.”

 “His parents were close with him before they passed and left all of the decision making up to him.”

 “Crazy, that your headmaster of your school worked for the private sector of the government. Think Harry’s parents were MI-6?”

 She shrugged. “Who knows? But for Harry’s sake I wish neither of them had been involved in any of it.”  

 “Amen to that. Well, if your friend Harry ever needs a place to crash I’ve got a place in London. My sister has a flat in Balham. When I eventually move back I plan on just taking her extra room. He’s okay to crash whenever he wants.”

 “Thanks, Bart. That means a lot.”

 “Hey, I know what it’s like to be in a home where everyone hates you for being you.”

 Hermione cringed. After Bart’s mum died, his father threw him out for being gay. Mind you the only reason his father found out he was gay was because he said it in confession at Church following his mother’s funeral.

 When their local priest approached his father because he was worried for his soul, his father freaked out. When his sister found out that her father threw her younger brother out, she left University and picked up her little brother who was couch surfing. While Bart called home once a month and left a voicemail for his dad letting him know he was okay and he was happy, his sister refused to speak to her sole living parent.

 Being raised an orthodox catholic, Bart’s family had a zero tolerance for anything that wasn’t in the Church’s way. Bart had left to Bulgaria to rediscover himself and his family that was originally from Varna. Hermione was proud of his journey so far and wished she could help him more.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to be a downer.”

 Hermione looked up at Bart, she must have been frowning. “You’re not being a downer. I’m going to miss you when I go home.”

 Bart smiled. “I’ll be home next summer. Don’t worry. We can go out as much as you want then!”

 Hermione smiled back, “Let me write down my address and my telephone number. My school gets out the third week of June.”

 “I can’t believe I know a posh boarding school girl.”

 Hermione giggled into her drink. She wrote down her address in a notebook he kept in his chest pocket. The two reminisced about their schoolings while Hermione waited for Malfoy to come downstairs.

He finally came down at eleven fifteen.

 “Ah, we were beginning to think you ran for it.” Bart called in greeting. Hermione smiled at Malfoy. Bart had just finished giving her directions to the magic show on Main street. The magician was officially one of the best in all of Varna. Bart said he had seven different acts, one for each day of the week. Hermione was definitely going to try and see at least three of them at some point, during her last two weeks in Varna.

 “Thanks for the drink and the company, Bart.”

 “See you later! Have fun in your sunny bookless exile, you two!” Hermione could still hear him chuckling after she left the lounge. They walked passed the repaired elevator and the front desk. The concierge waved at them and Hermione returned the greeting.

 They stepped out into the sun and Hermione was instantly happy she didn’t wear her jeans and opted for a tank top over a long sleeved shirt. She could feel the heat bury itself into her skin like it was an actual blanket of death.

 “It’s hot.” Malfoy complained within taking two feet outside.

 “Understatement of the century, that is.”

 “So, we’re going shopping for swimming clothes?”

 “Nope, well not yet anyway.” She scurried across the street, Malfoy at her heels.”We’re going to need to hurry or we’ll miss it.”

 “Miss what? Where are we going?”

 Hermione yanked Malfoy’s hand as she torpedoed down the alleyway and towards the number streets. Bart said the ‘magic show’ started at noon. She checked her watch as they closed in on Main and first. It was 12:01. Draco grumbled as he stumbled on uneven pavement.

 “It’s a magic show. Muggles perform magic. It’s entertaining. You’ll like it.” She huffed.

 “Granger, Muggles don’t have magic. I don’t see why you feel the need to drag me down the street like a bloody-”

 “Hurry up! We’re going to miss it! Bart said -”

 “You talk about that bloke an awful lot.”

 “Yes, well he makes pleasant conversation. Come on!”

 They arrived at the large fountain that Bart had described. In front of a sizable crowd of tourists stood a pale faced man wearing a black cape and a matching top hat. He looked more like a Dracula cosplayer than a magician, but Hermione didn’t bother pointing that out.  
“Feast your eyes, humans! Here, before you I present MAGIC!” When he shouted the word magic small doves escapes from the sleeves of his robes. Hermione clapped her hands excitedly along with the rest of the crowd. Malfoy was trying not look bored, but she could tell the birds had peaked his interest.

 He flipped off his top hat and experimentally shook it to prove there was nothing in it.

 “As you can see there is nothing in my hat. Excuse me, miss? Would you mind terribly checking to make sure there is nothing in my hat?”

He stopped several people in the front row as they each searched and found nothing in the hat. He stopped in front of Malfoy, who had his arms crossed against his chest.

 “Sir, would you mind reaching in there and pulling something out for me? I believe I left a bunny in there earlier?” Malfoy scoffed and shook his head. Hermione looked up excitedly. “Miss, would you give it a go?”

 Hermione nervously put her fingers inside the upturned top hat. Her fingers met something soft and wet and she squealed in shock. Using both hands she reached in and withdrew a small fluffy rabbit. She snuggled the little white lagomorpha to her chest.

 “Ah! I knew I lost something! Would you mind holding onto him for me miss? Wouldn’t want to lose him again. I lose stuff,” He swirled his top hat and a shower of candies erupted from the it’s end.

 “All,” Shake it again and this time an actual snake fell out, “the bloody,” small sparklers, “time!” With a final dramatic swish, several small pocket watches fell from the hat before he promptly put it back on his head. The crowd cheered.

“But really, every good magician knows at least three good card tricks. Seeing as we’re all busy folks, I’ve consolidated them.” With a flourish of his cape, he withdrew a deck of cards. He mixed them and then flashed them to the crowd showing that it was indeed an ordinary deck.

 “Now see, I am going to flip through the cards and I would like you,” he pointed to a young asian boy in front of them. “to shout when you want me stop.”

 He began to shuffle the cards until the boy shouted to stop. He closed his eyes and picked up the card so everyone could see. He was still standing close to Hermione after giving her the bunny so she had to crane her neck to see the card, it was a three of clubs.

“Now, everyone memorize this card. I cannot see it, but I want you to remember the card. Don’t tell me what it is.” He began to shuffle the deck again the chosen card obscured by the many other cards.

“Now, just to ensure that everyone believes in magic when I am done, I am going to allow each and every person a chance to shuffle the deck of cards.” Everyone but Hermione, who was still holding the bunny to her chest shuffled the cards.

 “Okay, I am going to hold up the card but don’t tell me what it is! Just say if i got it right or not!” He walked over and nuzzled the bunnies head.

“For luck,” he winked. He expertly shuffled the deck and then cut it in half. Flipping the first card up, he revealed the three of clubs. The reactions ranged from disbelief to astonishment, even Malfoy was somewhat impressed. Everyone clapped until he held up his hand.

 “Now, you see this cloak I am wearing? It’s not actually mine. It’s my great Aunt Betsy’s, God rest her soul. See every once in a while Betsy helps me find something I’ve lost, but she does it in her own way. She liked to write on a chalkboard. Odd, right?”

 He withdrew an empty double sided chalkboard from his robes and set it on the ground in front of him. Spreading his feet out and throwing his arms wide he called out, “Great Aunt Betsy! I require your help from beyond the grave! Show these mere mortals the card they seek!”

 A short scratching noise made everyone cringe, nails on a chalkboard. He walked over and looked over the board. Nothing was written there.

“Hmm… Shucks. This is embarrassing. That usually works. One more time.” He repeated his call but the same thing happened. Hermione knew it was all an act but she was giddy as a five year old in a candy shop. Fake magic was more entertaining than real magic.

 “What if we all shouted together?” The group was roused enough that everyone, but Malfoy shouted at his Great Betsy. The chalkboard made the scratching noise again.

 “I wonder… young sir, would you mind flipping the board over? My aunt did read backwards -” A young Spanish boy standing closest to the chalkboard flipped it over.

 “Diablo!” He hissed and jerked himself backwards.

 “What’s a diablo?” Malfoy hissed.

 “The devil.” Hermione hissed back. Everyone began to lean forward to look at what had scared the boy so badly. There drawn in multi-colored chalk was an exact imitation of the three of clubs card. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Hermione cheered because she couldn’t clap with the bunny snoozing in her arms.

 “This is a load of bollocks,” muttered Malfoy. Hermione was still cheering despite his sour mood. She knew he was likely just confused as to how Muggles had magic. She was debating whether or not she should clue him into the real secrets behind street magicians, but decided to let him stew.

 “You sir, a load of bollocks you say?” Malfoy eyed the magician with distaste.

 “You heard me.”

 “Ever the cynic and a teen at that! Why don’t you come over here and inspect my deck?” Malfoy sauntered over to the magician. The magician split the deck and began to shuffle them about impressively. Draco’s eyes darting back and forth between the cards with utter concentration and focus. Hermione imagined this was what he looked like searching for the snitch during Quidditch.

 “Have you seen them all?” the Magician asked.

 “Yes.” he replied.

 “Not at all it se -” The magician began to hack and cough and on his second cough a dozen cards came tumbling from his mouth. He caught the cards in his left hand while blowing his nose with his right. A pencil shot out from his right nose and he offered it to Malfoy. Malfoy stumbled back in equal parts shock and disgust. Hermione didn’t need to be a legilimens to know what was going through his mind. _How could a muggle use magic?_

 “Now, now don’t be alarmed!” He pulled off his black top hat and began to toss the cards and the pencil he spit up inside the upturned hat. He flipped the hat expertly in the air, twirling it before he tossed it back on his head. Malfoy whirled around looking for the dropped cards, that according to gravity should have came back down.

 “How -?”

 “Ah, I see we’ve yet to make you a believer! No worries, we will turn this boy into a believer of magic when I’m done!” He clapped Malfoy’s shoulders.

 “What a lovely ring, may I keep it?” Malfoy looked up in shock to find his familial ring on the magician’s fingers. Malfoy rolled his eyes and muttered something about caped pickpockets, as the magician walked over to Hermione and popped Malfoy’s into her ear. He rose his hands and his sleeves to show that he did not have it in his possession. Hermione’s ear certainly didn’t feel like it was holding a ring in it.

 He spun Hermione around, while she clutched the bunny tightly so he wouldn’t fall and plucked the ring from her other ear. The crowd cheered as Malfoy looked on dumbfounded. He tossed Malfoy’s ring back at him, which he caught and secured on his finger.

The magician bowed and then walked over to an elderly lady and asked to borrow a sip of her drink. Bemused, she nodded. He poured a bit the dark yellow liquid into his fist and wiggled them around. Fluttering his fingers open he raised his hand, palm down, to show that liquid was gone. He took his other hand and flicked it at the audience directly in front of where he was standing. The shrieked in shock, when droplets of water splattered onto their faces.

 Hermione laughed and Malfoy raised his hands in surrender. The magician bowed and everyone cheered. Hermione shuffled closer to Malfoy. “What did you think of your first magic show?”

 “Brilliant!” Malfoy was smiling. A real smile. Hermione nuzzled her face into the bunnies fur to hide her blush. He really was handsome when he smiled. She wished he would do it more often. “Hermione, can I take the rabbit back to the magician? I want to see if I can pay him off to learn how he did it all!”

 Before Hermione could protest the bunny was wrenched from her arms and Malfoy scurried off. Hermione watched his retreating figure, wondering if she had imagined him using her first name or if it really just happened.

After the magic show, the two grabbed lunch at a small cafe in the shopping district.

  


“I’m telling you my room is too cold, Granger!” Hermione huffed. His room was not too cold, he just didn’t want to go to the bookstore.

“Fine. We’ll go to the bookstore and _then_ we’ll go shopping.”

“Why can’t I buy swimming things first?”

“Because, Malfoy, the bags from the bookstore will be lighter than the bags from the clothing store.” Malfoy huffed in annoyance. Throwing several lev notes down on the table, he paid for their meal.

 Hermione grabbed her purse and after thanking the wait staff, hurried after Malfoy. Hermione and Malfoy walked the two blocks to the bookstore in silence. Malfoy was feigning looking at the shop windows. Hermione wasn’t fooled. He was searching the alleys and looking at his reflection behind him in the shop windows.

He was being overly cautious. Belatedly, Hermione realized she probably ought to do the same, but there was a sense of calm drifting through her as she walked with Malfoy. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable as it was with Ron, or the black hole it felt like when Hermione walked in on roommates gossiping in their dorm. It was breezy and well, easy. She didn’t feel the need to be searching for dark wizards because she knew Malfoy was doing it.

Hermione felt more relaxed than she ever remembered as she approached the book store. This specific store was closest to the shopping center and had the most english books. “We’re here.”

Malfoy looked at the store with thinly veiled disdain but stepped forward first and held the door open for her. Hermione stepped in a small shop bell jingling as it announced her arrival.

“Ah, Miss Granger! You have returned and brought a guest. Yuri is most pleased.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Yuri. How are you?”

“Quite well thank you, that tea you brought me was absolutely delicious. A certain someone called this morning and said under no circumstances was I allowed to let you in my store. Therefore, I am going to help you disobey your parents, in the name of literature of course.” Hermione giggled and thanked him profusely. She had known this would be his reaction when her mother told her she couldn’t go to the bookstore this morning. He waved her off and Hermione began to browse the small shop.

She scoured the shelves but couldn’t find any of the books she was looking for. After giving up on a book for herself, she wondered if she should get a book for Malfoy. She wanted to go to the beach and if he was occupied he’d leave her alone to read in peace. Remembering his fascination with elevator engineering, she shuffled through the few engineering related books she could find. As she was pulling out a book on Aviation Steering a small yellow book fell from the shelf. Hermione smiled as she lifted the familiar title from the floor.  

She brushed off the dust and returned the Aviation book the shelf. It was definitely an old copy of Madeline, older than the one she had at the hotel. Smiling she brought it to the register with her two other books for Malfoy.

“Ah, I forgot I had that copy. You can have that for free, Hermione dear. I’ve had it for so long, I wouldn’t know what to charge you for it.” He wrapped up her purchases and the two headed out into the street.

“Okay, Malfoy, are you ready to go shopping?”

Malfoy groaned.“No need to make me sound like a girl, Granger.”

“I’m confused. Are women the only people that need to shop for clothes? Are men born with clothes on their bodies?” Before Hermione could continue on her rant, Malfoy held up his arms in surrender.

“Granger, woah. I just meant this is something you normally do with your girl... mates.” Malfoy stuttered.

“Um….”

“You don’t have girl mates? I’m not surprised.”

Hermione scoffed.“There’s no need to be mean.”

“I wasn’t trying to be. You’re smarter than pretty much everyone and girls find that intimidating. Girls don’t take well to being intimidated, trust me I know. Us Slytherins are a tight knit group.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

“You weren’t trying to insult me?”

“I promised your mum I would try to stop fighting with you.”

“Thank you.” Hermione tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Ready to get you outfitted for the summer?”

Draco nodded painfully.  
The two walked leisurely down the cobblestone road looking into windows selling various trinkets and souvenirs. Hermione was starting to think they weren’t going to find a clothing store when they stumbled upon one. Though all the signs were in Bulgarian, Hermione was able to look at the pictures and understand enough.

“Ooh! Malfoy this store is advertising swimming gear!”

“I still don’t understand why we have to go to the beach.” Malfoy was peering into the window suspiciously.

“Because it’s summer and it’s not raining.”

“Is that women’s beach clothing?” he asked in shock. Hermione leaned over and laughed at the bikini he was pointed to.

“Yes, though there are men that wear just the bottom bit.” Hermione left out that it was usually vacationing older overweight Italian men, who tended to favor speedos. It wasn’t something anyone wanted to see.

Malfoy paled at this new bit of information. “There is no way in bloody hell, that I am wearing… that… that -” he spluttered. He stopped looking mildly affronted at Hermione’s giggles.

“You don’t have to wear a speedo. It’s just an option. Come on!” Hermione hurried into the store knowing that Malfoy would follow.

The store was overcrowded with clothes literally hanging from the ceiling. It was unisex with men and women’s clothes scattered about with no organization or tagged pricing. A short girl with a black and white streaked bob was sitting behind a counter that looked older than Hermione. She was playing with two buttons on the till looking immeasurably bored.

Hermione couldn’t blame her. If the dust in the store was any indication, this shop didn’t get too many visitors.

“Excuse me, miss?” The girl looked up in surprise at Hermione. She plastered a fake smile and welcomed her to the store in semi broken english. “Do you have any male swim trunks? No speedos.”

The girl looked Hermione up and down. “Not for me, Malfoy come here so she can see your size.”

Malfoy stepped forward and the shop girl instantly forgot about Hermione. Great. She began to stumble over her words as she unnecessarily measured Malfoy for swim trunks. She giggled and batted her eyelashes, complimenting him in the bits of english she knew.

Hermione browsed through the racks. She wasn’t looking for anything specific but she was on the lookout for some formal wear. Getting asked out by Viktor had been an anomaly. One she had been wholly unprepared for. Hermione Granger didn’t do unprepared.

She had seen dress robes on the packing list. After owling Professor McGonagall who informed her of a ‘secret’ ball happening over christmas, Hermione had opted out of buying a dress. She was planning on coming home for christmas to spend it with Granny Granger in the nursing home.

Hermione owled her mother the day she was asked hysterically panicking about a dress and a date. Her mum, being the exquisite specimen she was, had foreseen this and already purchased her a dress. The next morning her owl delivery included a rather large package. When Parvati saw a bit of periwinkle material poking out, she was ushering back into the room to try it on. Lavender had even woken up to watch her spin in it excitedly.

Sometime being girly wasn’t the worst. That _was_ her thought process until Fay started reading her mother’s accompanying letter on protection and safe sex practice. When she was done she held up ten silver packets and asked what they were. Hermione was mortified and had to explain to her roommates what a condom was.

Thank goodness it was a Saturday as the girls wanted to open one and inspect it. After an hour of giggling and curious poking, the girls each claimed one and headed down to breakfast. Hermione hung up her dress and wrote a quick reply to her mother before heading down with them.

“Granger, isn’t this the dress from that book?” Malfoy was leaning over a circular clothing rack brandishing a dress in Hermione’s direction. Hermione throat went dry. Good God, he was shirtless.

 

Malfoy turned around to face her, Hermione getting a full view of his body. Since he had been wearing her father’s baggy sports shirts, she forgot he was an athlete. His arms were telling of his Quidditch career at school. They were thin but also marbled with thick muscles from diligent practicing.

His chest was an entirely different story. Hermione was friends with Harry and was a regular at the Quidditch pitch to support her best friend. She had more or less, seen most of the boys on the team shirtless and none of them were as fit as Malfoy. His chest was pale and hairless with hard looking ridges that conformed around what could only be described as a six pack that Hermione had read a detailed description about in one of Lavender’s trashy novels.

Shite. She wasn’t sure if she needed to photograph and document him, or cover her eyes and join a nunnery.

“Hello! Granger, you there?”

“Sorry. What?”

“The dress.” Malfoy threw the dress at her. Surprised, Hermione just caught it before she dropped it.

Her attention was snapped to the familiar looking color. A rustling of fabric noise came from behind her as she surveyed the royal blue dress. The top half of the dress was sheer with a belt separating the top of the dress from the flare of the bottom half. The material was soft under her fingertips and upon closer inspection she realized the chest was not sheer, but there was a sweetheart tank underneath the material.

At the very top of the dress was a thin white jeweled collar that tied together at the center with a small red bow. Hermione fingered the many different handsewn white pieces on the white collar. Even without the Madeline resemblance it was beautiful dress.

“Dressing room in back.” Announced the shop girl. Hermione thanked her and noticed that Draco was wearing his shirt again.

With the dress in tow, she hurried passed the large mirror and the raised platform in front of it. The shop worker was nowhere to be found so Hermione let herself into the dressing room pulling the curtain shut behind her.

She threw her shirt and khakis onto the floor standing just in her white underwear. She was glad she had worn her white bra and not, say a dark one that would have shown through the sheer sleeves. She slipped into the dress and struggled to get the zipper up the back. Flipping her head over she tied her hair into a bun on top of her head. Smiling, she disentangled her hair from the zipper and pulled the zipper mostly shut.

Even though there was a mirror in the dressing room, couldn’t see the dress properly. The dressing room was too dark to even see the color properly. Huffing and hoping the zipper was properly closed Hermione skipped out of the dressing room towards the raised platform. Climbing up she examined herself in front of the mirror.

Hermione smiled at her reflection in the mirror. The sheer sleeves and belted waist made her arms look thin and her chest look… well less flat than usual. Obviously not as shapely as Parvati but not as flat as Ginny.

She twirled around on the platform, catching Malfoy’s pained expression in the mirror. “It really does looks like Madeline’s dress!”

Her tiny beige flats squeaked in protest as she went for another twirl while watching the light fabric flutter around her thighs.

“Granger, I’m sorry.” Hermione abruptly stopped twirling in front of the mirror.

“What?”

“For what I said in the hotel on Saturday. What I called you. It wasn’t right and I’m sorry.”

Mudblood. He had called her a Mudblood.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you apologising?”

“Errr… When I called -”

“Let’s just drop it okay. Forgive and forget?” Malfoy flushed and extended his hand. Hermione looked at it curiously.

“Draco.” He replied. Hermione met his eyes as she heard the vulnerability in his voice. He was inviting her to use his first name. Without hesitating, Hermione stepped down from the dias and pressed her warm hand into his cool one.

“Hermione, pleasure to meet you Draco.” They smiled sheepishly at each other.

“You buy dress and pants?” interrupted a brusque voice.

“Yes,” Draco responded. “I’ll pay while she changes.”

“Draco, you don’t have to buy the -”

“Go change Gr - Hermione.”

Hermione shuffled back into the dressing room feeling as if something pivotal had just changed between them.

Armed with her purchases, Hermione checked her watch again. It was only two o’clock. Her parents would be back at about five thirty. Draco was looking into a coffee shop window.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to another latte right about now.”

“What has you so tired?”

“Nothing really, but that shop girl mentioned she was off for lunch soon and I’d rather avoid her.” Hermione giggled.

“She’s probably going to check food establishments. Let’s go elsewhere. I think there’s a post office close by here. They have a seating area. We can sit for a bit?”

“Do they have a loo?”

“Yup. All government buildings do.”

“Let’s go.” The two hurried to the post office. Draco left her with her bags while he went to use the loo. Hermione was sitting opposite the line that snaked out in front of the windows of Post office workers. Hermione watched the line move slowly.

Hermione was watching an elderly woman fight with her grandchildren to behave when someone tapped Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione almost fell out of her seat in shock.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to alarm you!”

Elena Rosa Krum was smiling down at her. She slipped into Draco’s chair, giving her a quick hug once she was settled.

“How are you Hermione? I’ve missed you.” Her sweet face morphed into a frown. “I wish mother hadn’t -”

“Don’t apologise for your mother, Elena. She makes her own decisions and she and she alone is responsible for them.” Elena sat up taller.

“I wish I could be as brave as you Hermione.”

“Whatever for?”

Elena looked around nervously. Standing, she ushered Hermione over to the corner. Hermione gathered her bags and followed Elena. Once they were out of view of the rest of the post office she pulled out a daily prophet from the pocket of her pale pink sundress.

She barely unfolded it when Hermione saw a huge picture of Harry’s face. 

**Potter Perturbs Ministry**

_Harry Potter’s riveting tale of You Know Who’s return shocks Ministry members as they outright deny the boy’s fictitious tale. The Auror department insists that there was no ‘cover up’ after Auror Mad Eye Moody was claimed to be a Death Eater using polyjuice potion. The real Auror, is in fact well and living out his retirement educating our young wizards and witches._

_Mind Healer’s from Saint Mungos attribute Potter’s episode as a delayed shock response to watching a fellow classmate die during the final and fatal TriWizard Tournament task. Although the Ministry isn’t able to comment on the actual reasoning for Mr. Cedric Diggory’s death, the Ministry assures the public that his death was an accident and not the work of a teenager’s Death Eater conspiracy theory. The remaining surviving TriWizard champions; Mr. Viktor Krum and Miss. Fleur Delacour have each declined a comment._

_The Minister of Magic is tightening his Auror guard as he looks toward Albus Dumbledore for filling Mr. Potter’s head with lies. “We believe that Albus Dumbledore is no longer satisfied with his position at Hogwarts and now he covets the Minister’s seat. Mr. Dumbledore and Mr. Potter are filling the Wizarding world with lies to spread fear and chaos. We at the Ministry urge our good citizens not to worry and not play into this deception.”_

Hermione continued to read as the Prophet turned Harry into a head case and claimed that he imagined Voldemort’s return. Dumbledore was turned into a rebel trying to overthrow the government. This was bad. Very very bad. She needed to write to Ron.

“Hermione?”

“Elena, I think I need to go. I need to send a letter to Ron. I need -”

“No! I heard the Ministry of Magic in England is monitoring all communication now. They cleared it with the Wizengamot because they think Professor Dumbledore is trying to start a revolution.”

“But -”

“You’re heading home in two weeks Hermione. You can speak to Ron when you get back.” Hermione breathed in and out calming herself.

“Thank you, Elena.”

“Your welcome. Hermione, I’ve actually been looking for you for over a week! You had me worried sick.”

“Looking for me?”

“Yes, Viktor… he left letters for you but my mother burned them. He had to leave for practise out of the country and…”

“It’s okay, Elena.” Hermione stopped Elena. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t need to know that Viktor was waiting for her somewhere. She needed space from him, from relationships right now. Maybe after Christmas she’d write to him?

Hermione shook her head. She reached out and hugged little Elena Krum.

“Go home, Elena and be safe.”

“My family believes in Harry Potter, Hermione.”

“Really?”

“My parents took me to get a wand last week. I’ve been practising basic spells with my parents and my uncle made me an emergency portkey to his house in Russia. England may not believe Harry Potter, but the rest of the world is on alert. America closed their borders last week. They’re calling back all of their natives and not allowing anyone in, or out.”

Hermione looked at Elena in shock. How much was she missing?

Elena hugged her tightly and kissed both of her cheeks. “I’ll be back here on Monday at two, I hope to see you.”

She hurried out of the Post office and into the street as Hermione watched her. She tightened her hands around her bags. She needed to get back to London. She needed to speak to -

“You okay, Hermione?” Hermione whirled around to see Draco standing behind her. She didn’t want to go to the beach. She wanted to stay inside and hide. She wanted to stand with her wand pointed at her hotel room,dorm, and blast anyone but her family that tried to get inside.

But she couldn’t do that, could she? Then they would win. The Death Eaters wanted her to feel fear. They wanted her to never leave her house, to cower in fear that they may attack her. Hermione squared her shoulders. She refused to live in fear. She refused to allow a group of racists bigots dictate how she would live. Even if it killed her, she was going to the damn beach.

 

**~**

 

Despite what Doc said that morning, it was not actually going to be two days of sunshine, but two days of a rain storm. According to one of the helpful  employees at the Post office, the storm was due to start at five. Luckily for them, they only made it to the boardwalk ten after five.

Draco overheard the entire conversation between Elena Rosa Krum, the flower of the Bulgarian community, and Hermione. Potter was getting dragged through the media. It wasn’t a bad tactic for the Ministry to take. Denial was definitely a stupid path, but they were probably too terrified to admit that the Dark Lord was back. Fudge had no backbone, he wasn’t fit to lead in times of war.

When they arrived the boardwalk was empty and the sky dark and overcast. Everyone was inside to prepare for the upcoming storm. Hermione wasn’t easily deterred. Draco had learnt that much about her. He dropped the shopping bags between his legs. He dragged the bloody bags eight blocks and now they weren’t even going to use the swimming trunks he bought.

Despite what Hermione said, Draco knew that Elena Krum’s news about Potter had greatly disturbed his witch. Not that she was his witch. She was just a witch. A witch he spent a lot of time with. Too much time, if he was being honest. He couldn’t wait to get away and go back to the Manor. Maybe he could have Pansy over? She would -

 

Hermione had gone to the loo before leaving the post office and changed into her new blue dress. She also pulled out her yellow beach hat to keep her hair in place on the windy beach. Given the current racing winds, he wished he was wearing a jacket or at least longer sleeves.

Hermione disrupted his thoughts by clambering onto a bench. When she was standing upright, she threw her hands out to the sky. She stretched them out as the wind rippled through her clothes. Draco watched in awe as her hair fluttered in the wind wildly.

The yellow ribbon flicked wildly behind her, her dress being pulled so far back that he could see the outline of her body. Not just the outline, every single curvature. The arch of her back and the slope of her stomach before it bottomed out and into her…

Draco gulped nervously.

“It’s going to rain, Hermione.”

“I know. I just wanted to enjoy being outside before we had to go in.”

Adjusting the strap on their beach bag, Draco called her again. The clouds overhead were getting darker and thicker.

“Hermione, the books will get wet!” He called over the wind. She hopped down from the bench, stumbling a bit on the uneven boardwalk. His hands flew out and caught her before she fell. She stared into his eyes from his arms. He stared back equally as intrigued.

Her eyes weren’t muddy brown at all. They were like droplets of honey on a bit of parchment. Warm and inviting, not at all the cold angry eyes that he had met when he first apparated to Bulgaria. Her mouth opened as if she was going to speak when a huge roll of thunder broke overhead. She screamed in shock and almost fell out of his arms.

Hoisting the bag over one arm, he hurried down the street dragging her arm as he went. He raced to an awning of a trinket shop and made it under just as the rain came pouring down. London rain, that’s what it was. Heavy droplets that hurt to stand under.

Hermione huddled closed to him to avoid being rained on. Their hands squished and he let go, pulling it back. Realizing there was nowhere else to put it he leaned it behind him. Hermione looked out into the rain her eyes wide and her shoulders hunched. Draco watched her until his arm ached and he lowered it the same time she shuffled and stood taller. His hand settled gently onto her shoulder.

Before he had a chance to pull away, she leaned into his chest, laying her head there. Draco felt a surge of warmth fill his chest and he pulled her a bit closer as they stood side by side as they watched the rain fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola! Thanks for reading this far into the story! Just wanted to drop some interesting facts about moi;
> 
> 1\. With the exception of the tricks the magician performed for Draco at the very end (an x-factor inspired performance) I actually know how to do all of those tricks. I was (and still am) pretty dork-sh as a tween and i used all my Hannukah money at FAO Schwartz and bought myself a magic kit. It was awesome. I managed to convince my sisters friends that I really did go to the US branch of Hogwarts and that I did know magic. Good times.
> 
> 2\. Bart is based off of a friend in my real life and his family situation (they are orthodox immigrants) is sadly true. I'm very happy for said friend that they are currently in a loving relationship and has built up a family. 
> 
> 3\. I absolutely detest stores that are overcrowded with clothes and unorganized. While bored waiting for my spouse and my sister to finish shopping, I reorganized the men's tie rack in Century 21. If you haven't been there, go.


	10. Chapter 10: Burns and Beaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beach day with lots of burns and fun. Thank you (my beta) MrsRen who helped me detangle this cheese fest!

#  **Chapter 10: Burns and Beaches**

  
Hermione sighed as she looked out the window. She was sitting on the window seat in the library lounge with her legs tucked securely under her. Looking mournfully at the steady rain pouring down, she wondered when the storm would let up. Since returning soaked through their clothes Monday evening, it had rained steadily through Tuesday and Wednesday. Now, Thursday morning Hermione was starting to feel a bit… caged.

Despite her love of reading and revising, she desperately needed to get out of the hotel. Draco, while enjoying the safety of the indoors and the gym, agreed. The concierge insisted, once again, that the rain would let up this afternoon, but he had assured her that it was going to let up two days ago. She needed to get out.

“You look like you swallowed a hairball, Hermione.” Draco laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I feel caged.”

“I didn’t think you, of all people, would make werewolf references.”

“It wasn’t said in a derogatory tone, Draco.” Draco hummed in response. Hermione wondered what he did in his spare time. She spent a lot of the time that she was reading or revising with Draco, talking with Bart. Bart was just as glum about the rain as she was. Bart and Chef Po had gone on one spontaneous date and after which, Chef Po insisted on baking Hermione a lemon and raspberry tart. She was definitely putting on a couple of pounds being as cooped up and well fed, as she was.

“I spoke to the concierge this morning.” Draco smiled as he placed a book back on the shelf. Hermione raised an eyebrow. “He saw me reading the books you bought me and he said there’s a museum of engineering and sciences.”

Only then did Hermione notice that Draco was studying a pamphlet. Untucking her legs she hopped off the window seat and skipped towards him. Realizing she couldn’t see over his shoulders, she stood on her tippy toes, so she could see the pamphlet. “It says that you have to book a tour.”

Draco fingers froze as they traced the pictures opposite the museum’s hour listing. He turned his head slowly and their eyes met over his slender shoulders.

“We should ring the museum and then we could go today.” Hermione smiled at Draco’s back and turned towards the direction of the concierge.

“We’ll need rain gear though, I’ll ask if the hotel has anything they could lend us. I’ll call a cab, too.” She hurried away to get the required items, leaving a tense shouldered Draco behind her.

 

~

 

Draco practised his breathing exercises. Hermione was so excitable sometimes and he envied her ability to just show her excitement. Draco had been raised to conceal every emotion lest someone use it against you. Hermione was excited to go to the museum and therefore she skipped and grinned happily. Draco was a hell of a lot more excited than she was, but he just nodded when she left to get provisions for their trip.

His eyes were drawn to the paisley blue and gold cushioned window seat she had been occupying. While Draco pretended to read, she was gazing lazily out the window. Draco wasn’t a creep or anything, but he liked watching her when she got lost in thought. Her eyes glazed over and changed from a fierce brown to a liquid gold. It was intoxicating.

Sometimes, when Hermione got lost in a book, her brows would knit together in display of clear consternation. She would bring the book as close as she could to her face, often pulling her legs up to support the book or stack additional books under the one she was reading. It was as if the bookworm couldn’t believe what was happening within the pages in front of her and she needed the book to get closer to her face, to assure her that what she read was real.

Draco resisted the smile creeping up his face as he recalled how she often chewed on her thumb the closer she got to the end of a book. It wasn’t the nasuating way Crabbe bites his nails. It was a nervous tick, as if she had anxiety as to how the author would answer all her questions before the book ended. Often, when her questions weren’t answered she would bounce her queries off of him and talk through her many theories and conundrums.

Above all else, Hermione Granger abhorred cliffhangers. She had actually _thrown_ a book that was lent to her at a wall, when the book ended in a cliffhanger and Ginny Weasley had the next installment with her in her home. She had contemplated braving the rain so she could send Ginny a letter in the post. Draco read the letter and after laughing at her brightly worded fury, he convinced her not to send it. Honestly though, who calls their friend a ‘cliffhanging clusterbint’ and a ‘literary lardarse’ for failing to mention that the book they lent you ended in a cliffhanger?

In her anger, Draco learned quite a bit about Hermione. She was passionate, he knew that. S.P.E.W was the joke of the Slytherin common rooms. While she may be quite animated about her cause, it was common knowledge that she hadn’t really met any proper elves. Draco actually broached the subject yesterday, over lunch. Apparently most of her experience with elves were based on Dobby and some demented elf named Winky. While Draco could see her point of view, it still wasn’t something that was going to change or anything that was important right now.

She conceded that it wasn’t at top of the bill, but insisted that if they never moved forward as a people, wizardkind would crumble. Draco didn’t disagree and her view of the world had given him a lot to think about.

Walking over the window seat, Draco picked up the book she was reading. In effort to calm herself down from her cliffhanger fury, Hermione picked up a new book to read. Whatever book she read had calmed her down in minutes and left her with a soft smile and a far off look. He was about to return it to the shelf when he realized it was the Madeline book again. Why was she so obsessed with that book?

“Draco?” He whipped around. Hermione changed into a hoodie and dark jeans. She was also wearing trainers instead of the soft soled sandals she was wearing earlier. He tried not to look down at the jeans that were hugging her curves. It wasn’t appropriate. “The cab is ready to take us now and our appointment is till four. Are you ready to go?”

 

He nodded and followed her to the entrance of the hotel. Hurrying from the main doorway and into cab, he realized that he didn’t return the book to the shelf. Belting himself into the seat, he held the book uselessy in his hands.

“Why did you bring Madeline with you?”

“It was an accident. I was about to put it back on the shelf when you called me.”

“Oh.” Hermione pulled her hair back out of her face as her untamed curls frizzed around her frame. Draco thought it had gotten bigger in the last day or two, but that had to have been his imagination, right?

“Why do you read it so often?”

“Madeline?”

“No, _Hogwarts: a History._ ” He replied sarcastically. Her brow furrowed in confusion. She obviously hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm. “I was being sarcastic. Obviously, Madeline.”

“Oh. Well, I related to the book a lot as a kid and it only translated more to my life as I grew older.”

“What do you mean?” How could a witch, a brilliant witch relate to a yellow hat wearing orphan in, essentially, a french nunnery?

“I originally got the book as a gift from my grandmother when I had an appendectomy. I was six and scared out of my mind. My grandmother would sit and read the book with me while I rested from the surgery. As I grew older though, the book began to have more meaning.”

Hermione paused and looked out the window, smiling to herself.

“Madeline was a brave gryffindor.” He surmised.

“Not just the brave bit, but she was also an orphan. Growing up, I knew I was different. My parents never made a big deal about it but my classmates… they weren’t kind. Finding out I was a witch was a dream come true. There was a reason that Tommy Balfinger started vomiting worms after he called my ugly and pushed me off the swings. I wasn’t imaging strange occurrences and I wasn’t odd. There were other people just like me. I was so excited to enter the new magical world that I didn’t realize, that in going _into_ the wizarding world essentially made me an orphan.

My parents can’t see the things I can do. They know I got the highest marks in transfigurations and charms, but I can’t actually show them my work. I can’t even show them my books! They have special charms on them so Muggles only see standard school books. Even when I graduate, they won’t be able to come. When I start work at the Ministry, I won’t be able to show them where I work. I-”

“I get the picture, Granger.”

She took the book from his lap and smiled sadly at the worn cover. “This book means so much to me, because I felt it understood me before I became a witch and then after. It was one of the few things that survived my transition as a witch.”

Not wanting to ruin the trip, Draco tried to lighten the mood. “Miss Clavel is totally a Puff.”

Her eyes snapped up. “No way! She’s the nun version of Professor McGonagall. She even hates dogs!”

“Merlin, Granger. We found the literary version of Professor McGonagall.” The two shared a chuckle. Draco looked out the window and recognized the building they were pulling up to. Excitedly he turned to the Gryffindor sharing a cab with him. “We’re here!”

They stayed in the museum well past closing time. Draco was enamored by every single tiny gear and their corresponding cogs. Hermione was amused to find that he had the curiosity of a small child, or a cat. She wasn’t sure what was more endearing to her, the cat or the tot.

The beginning of the trip was rather bumpy, as he hadn’t thought to bring a notepad and a pen. After borrowing her utensils for the third time, Hermione gave up and relinquished her things. He spent the next hour scuttling between exhibits and complaining that she hadn’t brought a larger notebook.

After an hour, he demanded they find another notebook as he had run out of space. Hermione was finally able to purchase two more notebooks for him from the gift shop. As she was leaving the shop with her notebooks, she found coin press machine. Sifting through her change, she found the coins needed to make Draco a coin press.

She brought him the notebooks and the flattened engraved coin. After handing him the notebooks, she gave him the coin. His curiosity was once again peaked and rather than answer his endless questions, Hermione took him back to the coin machine.

Hermione made another pressed coin and he watched with intense fascination as the coin was heated, flattened, and then engraved. He insisted on repeating the process two more times and on the third and final time, he himself placed the coins in the receptacles. Draco’s pockets were jingling and Hermione could detect a slight spring in his step, when they returned to the exhibits.  

Hermione spent the next several hours following Draco around, as he went from exhibit to exhibit. He wrote detailed notes, as well as sketched out ideas. While the museum was fascinating, Hermione’s attention was held by Draco. She was embarrassed that she barely had any idea what they were looking at, but she could describe in embarrassing detail how much Draco enjoyed each exhibit.

After the museum was closed, Draco spoke to several curaters and in broken english, they indulged his studious mind.

“That was riveting, Hermione. It was captivating, mesmerizing….”

Hermione chuckled. The rain had let up and since their visit. Since it wasn’t such a far walk to the hotel they decided to walk it. Draco was still talking about the museum and Hermione wondered if his parents ever gave him this much attention to him.

“Hermione, are you listening?”

“Oh, sorry. I got distracted. What were you saying?”

“That store has a Madeline hat! Look!” Hermione turned to survey the shop, they were passing. Through the glass window, she could see it was a small boutique with very few clothing in the store. Hermione squinted in around the store, she saw a lot of couture but she didn’t see any hats.

Hermione was about to ask what Draco was talking about when, she felt cool fingers settle under her chin and nudge her face in the direction of the mannequin in the corner of the shop’s window. Hermione temporarily forgot to breathe, when she realized that he was, once again talking to her.

“Do you see it?” Hermione nodded but didn’t move. His fingers released his chin and slipped into her hand as he tugged her into the store. The woman behind the counter was wearing a clean suit and pumps. Hermione felt ridiculously out of place. “Ma’am, how much for the hat in the window?”

“The hat?”

“Yes, name your price.”

The woman hurried to the window and took the hat off of the mannequin. She handed it to Draco as the two began to discuss the price for a hat that, apparently, wasn’t on sale. While Draco wheedled a price out of her, Hermione tried the hat on. She ruined her summer hat in the rain and her british skin was in dire need of a new one, you know, for when the rain eventually cleared up.

Hermione smiled under the dainty yellow straw hat. A black ribbon ran around the base of the hat. She trailed her fingers along it and down the remainder of the silky material that was hanging off of the rim. Draco handed the woman several notes and then he whisked Hermione out of the store, the hat still on her head. Hermione followed with one hand on her hat and the other firmly intertwined in Draco’s.

Friday morning celebrated one week of vacation with the Grangers and the two were finally able to go to the beach. Neither teenager needed convincing to get out of the hotel and both of Hermione’s parents were notably pleased. After checking that they had everything they needed twice, because Hermione was convinced they would forget something, they left.

In Hermione’s defense, he had forgotten most of the things on his list. Though it wasn't his fault. Hermione came to breakfast in her parent’s room wearing a white lace sundress. While the white sundress and it’s see-through material was… distracting, that wasn’t the reason he was distracted. Underneath the dress he could very clearly see the outline of a dark blue bikini.

Bikinis.

Every boy’s wet dream and the greatest French Muggle invention there was. His mind was reduced to only being able to process one, or two thoughts all of which came back to, bikinis.

Draco Malfoy was going to the beach with Hermione Granger, who would be wearing a bikini. The thought was bouncing around his head as he gathered the towels, mistakenly leaving them on the edge of his bed instead of the beach bag. After the towels, he forgot the water bottles, the books, and the crisps.

Draco was so distracted by his thoughts that he barely noticed her annoyance as she repacked his bag. Hermione must have noticed his flushed cheeks because she apologised for being snippy.

The cab ride was short and uneventful. Draco was trying to ignore his growing disappointment, given how eventful their first cab ride was. Instead he poured his energy into dragging, like a bloody muggle, all of their bloody beach crap. Did anyone really need this many things for one trip?

Hermione looked up at the sun through her white rimmed sunglasses and frowned. The sun was literally burning through Draco’s beach shirt. He could feel his shoulders burning and they hadn’t even made it onto the actual beach yet. “Even with sunscreen, you’re going to burn Draco.”

“I know.” The beach was hot, without a cloud, or a whisper of wind in sight. Doc had called it, ‘the devil’s armpit’ this morning. He didn’t know the specifics of ‘the devil,’ but he understood enough to know it was bloody hot.  Merlin, he was going to roast out here.

“I’ll see if we can get a cabana. They’re usually sold out by now, but maybe…” Hermione dumped her bags at his feet and quite literally skipped off.

Draco was trying very hard not to stare at Hermione’s back as she hurried of the boardwalk and towards the Cabana renting booth. He stood frozen as she ran. Her already short, white summer dress had bunched up to the middle of her thighs in the car. Since neither of them had  realized it before, she hadn’t pulled it down before she started running.

Shite.

She was wearing a bikini. Two dark purple triangles, held together by string and little multicolored beads. She leaned up at the counter and Draco distinctly heard some of his bags dropping. The lower half of flat belly was exposed. The valley in between her… Draco ears burned with the image of what was higher than her flat sun kissed stomach.

Damn. Shit. Damn.

A staff member walked over and satisfied that her tiny frame could be seen over the counter, she settled back down to her feet. Her dress slipped back down to it’s proper hemline, right above her knees. She slipped her sunglasses on her head as the two began to speak.

After a minute or two, she looked over her shoulder and waved at Draco. Draco was trying not to move, not to breathe, and not to do anything that would make his pants any tighter than they already were.

The boy behind the counter, a stereotypical beach blonde wearing a odd muggle beach hat, handed her a paper that she signed. He pointed something out to her and she rolled her eyes in annoyance. Thumbing the hem of her dress, she pulled it over her head and handed it to the leering staff member. Smiling, the man attached her dress to the paper she signed and shelved the stuff.

And because she was Hermione Granger, she rolled her eyes and took a blue umbrella from the counter, like she wasn’t practically naked in public. Tucking the umbrella under her arm, she began to walk towards Draco.

Everything was fine until her eyes widened with shock and she began to run. Sprinting over the sand, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

Her hair flowed behind her as her bare feet hit the beach, a perfect symphony of chestnut, coffee, and cocoa. Her skin glistened under the sun as Draco’s eyes were drawn south of her face. She bounced happily and freely as she hurried towards him and Draco became aware of a steadily growing problem. Shite. Shite. Shite.

His eyes were drawn to her hair , the different shades of it being highlighted in the sunlight.. His gaze skimmed over her skin, seeming to glisten from a layer of sweat, a result of the heat. Barely contained in her swimsuit top, her breasts bounced as she hurried towards him, quickly padding across the sand.

How the bloody hell was he supposed to know that Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire, was hiding all of  _ this _ underneath her robes?!

As she came closer she lift her arms, causing her decolletage to raise and spill over the thin purple material. She opened the blue umbrella and suddenly the two were engulfed in shade.

“God, Malfoy, you’re already burnt! I wasn’t even gone for five minutes! I did try to hurry but-”

“You’remissingyourdress.” Draco blurted out.

“What?”

“What?”

“Draco, what did you just say?”

“Huh.” Shite. What was wrong with him? All he had to do was tell the truth. Hermione wouldn’t be mad if he sneaked a peek. Surely. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Draco. I just heard - damn. Are you already dehydrated? Bart packed us food and hydration kits. Heat stroke is a real thing.” She said seriously.

He still wasn’t sure how it happened,but twenty minutes later he was sitting in a cabana, with Granger hovering over him nervously. She got him cold fruity drinks, kept him out of the shade, and literally ran to get anything he hinted that he might want. 

  
  


Hermione felt terrible. She was so anxious about taking Malfoy back to the beach, after their original incident there, that she spent the whole morning being snippy and in short, a terror. She nitpicked his packing, gave the cabbie the wrong address, and then finally forgot to tell Draco to put sunscreen on  _ before _ they left the hotel. He got a sunburn during the time it took her to secure a cabana for the day.

“I’m really sorry.” She repeated for what must have been the thousandth time after lunch.

“Seriously, Hermione stop apologising. My nose is a little burnt, it’s not a big deal.” Of course it was a big deal! He had gotten quiet and was acting so... unDraco like. She smiled to herself, she enjoyed that she got to see a very different Draco Malfoy. He wasn’t just the arrogant and well… a bit of a ponce-ish boy she had gone to school with.

No one would have been shocked to find that his skill at chess and strategy based games, much like Ron, was at prodigy levels. Taking into account that he was an only child and that he was obscenely rich, it made sense. What was most surprising was that once his masks were down and he had several drinks in him, he didn’t actually like being the center of attention. He drank with Mum and Dad almost every night and he was a  _ listener _ more than he was a  _ talker _ .

Hermione often ran into the problem that her friends never actually listened to what she was saying. They heard her, but they weren’t listening. Draco consumed every detail, digested it, and then offered helpful and non-judgemental feedback. One of his examples, was when mum brought up her long time feud with the office secretary. Her parent’s bought out someone else’s practise and Judith Happenburger, came with it.

Mum hated how she barked at patients and refused to use the new filing system she placed. Dad always joked he and Mum never bickered because Mum used up all of her bickering with Judith. The two women had been bickering since before Hermione was born, literally. Draco listened to the saga, in depth and then offered an eight step plan to help with dealing with Judith. Her mum had actually taken notes.

At the heart of it though, Draco was intelligent and soft spoken individual. He enjoyed a hearty meal with intellectually stimulating conversation, paired with a long book and a quiet nook, where he could read and no one would disturb him. Much like Hermione, the two could read for hours and be unaware of the passing time. Bart, as well as mum and dad, complained constantly, especially given the amount of material the two had gone through.

He enjoys quiet reading, just like me. She thought happily.

Looking up at Draco, Hermione smiled. “Do you want another book?”

“I’m good, Hermione. Relax.”

“I really am-”

“Please stop apologising. It was no one’s fault. If anything it was the sun’s fault. Can’t exactly fight with the sun, can you?” Draco quirked an eyebrow and Hermione got the not uncomfortable urge to throw her arms around him and hug him. Snuggling into the cabana, she opened her book to read.

She was read reading a fascinating book on the history and origins of Arthur and his knights of the round table. She had already read the regular versions, so when Ginny offered her mum’s copy, Hermione had been delighted. She enjoyed swapping notes on the two worlds. Often, the Muggle world was like looking at an elephant through the pinhole of a sewing needle. They declared it grey and hard, but they were seeing only the elephant’s nail through their tiny hole. In the wizarding world, Hermione got to see the entire elephant.

Burrowing her head against the pillow, she glanced at her watch. She had been reading for two hours. She wondered if Draco wanted-

A hand cupped her arse and she looked up in shock to see that she was practically lying  _ on top  _ of Draco.  

“Draco?” She squeaked. He had long since removed his shirt, due to the heat, and their sweaty skin was rubbing against each other.

His voice was deep and rumbling and his eyes dark, “You fell asleep and rolled onto me.”

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.” Hermione made to move off of him but his hand gripped her firmly in place.  Draco’s eyes were conflicted and Hermione wasn’t sure if she should apologise or… or… “Draco, I -”

Hermione was cut off as Draco swooped down, like the snake he was, and firmly pressed his lips to hers. In shock Hermione sat as still as a deer caught in headlights. It was blinding and overwhelming and Hermione felt as if every one of her nerves were  _ alive.  _ As if she was on literal  _ fire. _

It took a moment or two, but Hermione finally overcame her shock and began to kiss him back. Draco must have been expecting her to throw him off, so when she didn’t, his hovering hands became fascinated with her bikini top. She chuckled when he played with the beads on the side and he responded by deepening what had been an almost chaste kiss.

Draco’s soft hands finally found permanent purchase on her, as they slid up the bare skin of her back. Sending chills and goosebumps throughout her body, Hermione whimpered into their kiss. He smiled into her mouth as she gripped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Pushing her chest firmly against his, she pushed away all the thoughts of how bad this could end up. She ignored all of the blaring siren lights, indicating for her to stop and evaluate the situation and simply just let herself be.

Her hips began rocking on their own, when she felt him pushing into her. His hands ghosted up her back and slipped through her hair, massaging her scalp. God….

“Draco.” She moaned.

“Off.” He ordered.

“What?”

“Granger, unless you plan on shagging me right now, in this cabana, you need to get off my dick.”

“Shite.” Hermione mumbled. Draco’s eyes were so dark, they bordered on black. He was looking at her like… like the people who would shag in the library… “God, I’m so sorry Draco. I didn’t mean to-”

He silenced her with a bruising kiss. “Never apologise for giving a bloke the best kiss of their life.”

Hermione blushed. “Umm… I…”

“Excuse me?” The two teenagers simultaneously screamed in surprise when the boy from the cabana rental center made an appearance. What was his name? “Rental closing. Return hut.”

He looked annoyed. He must have seen them snogging. The creep had tried hitting on her earlier and even though she ignored his advances, he offered to let her skip the line if she left a piece of her behind for him to hold onto. Hot and annoyed, she left her sundress. Her decency, or lack thereof, was worth his shocked face. Based on Draco’s obsession with her bikini, it was definitely worth Draco’s.

“Of course, sir, we apologise. Come along Hermione, dear.” Draco dumped the remainder of their things into the beach bag and helped Hermione up from the cabana. Handing the boy a tip, he winked.

They walked up the beach slowly and Hermione smiled at Draco. Her lips felt swollen, but in a intoxicatingly good way, like she was floating.

“Hermione, do you own more of,” he motioned to her bathing suit. “those?”

Hermione giggled and nodded.

“We’re coming back every damn day.” Draco muttered to himself before taking her by the hand and pulling her towards the taxi stand.

That night over dinner, Draco and Hermione avoided eye contact. Following an intense snog in the cab ride home, the two met the adults in the lobby of the hotel. Jumping apart from each other, Hermione lamented her parents insistence for playing board games before dinner.

 

~

 

It was the longest damn dinner Draco had ever had to sit through and he remembered eating at Great Aunt Walburga’s. She had passed and not a moment too soon, in his opinion, the miserable banshee.

“So, what did you two young people get _up_ to today?” Draco stilled at the direction in which his body had spent a considerable portion of the day.

“Oh, we just hung out at the beach, Dad. No need to fuss.” Hermione replied airily. Not like they were snogging within an inch of their lives, but sure. No fuss.

“The _whole_ day?” Her mother asked incredulously. “You didn’t go into the crowded bookshop, not even once?”

“Cabin fever is a powerful motivator, Mum.” Hermione responded diplomatically. Draco was sweating. Were they following them? What did they do during the day, again?

“Draco dear, your sweating. Are you alright?” Doctor Granger asked. They were spies of some sort, he was sure of it. Was Hermione sure that there actually was a convention?

“Fine, umm burn.” Draco muttered, while spooning a bit of vile green ice cream into his mouth.

“Oh dear, you got burnt? Hermione dear, did you not give him cream?” Cream. Fuck. Why was he here? Why?

“I forgot to give it to him before we left. He put it on once we arrived, but he was already burnt on his shoulders and his nose.”

“Oh, well. Hermione, you do have the aloe don’t you?”

“Yes, dad.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Okay, well you two look beat. Off you two go to bed! Hermione don’t forget to give Draco the cream!”

They cleaned up their dinner and scurried out of the room. Draco praying to Merlin, Nimue, or whomever was listening that they would save him.

Hermione slammed the door closed to her room. “They know.”

“There’s no way they know!” Draco responded his arms stubbornly across his chest.

“Draco, they were teasing you.”

“There is no way, your dad let some… some… somebody _defile_ his little girl and just played it off cooly like that. There’s no way.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Draco, my dad really likes you. He’s never taken such an interest in anyone I’ve dated.”At the darkening of his eyes, Hermione backpedaled. “Not that we’re… or-”

Draco snogged her heavily, leaving her dizzy with a silly grin on her face. It took a moment for it to wear off but when it did, she swatted his chest in annoyance. “You can’t do that every time you don’t want to talk about something, Draco. I’m _not_ Pansy.”

“If you were, I wouldn’t be here.” Hermione stared at him pointedly. Draco ran his hands through his hair nervously. “This is new, Hermione. I don’t want to put labels or pressure on this. I’m obviously not snogging anyone else right now, and I’d like to hope if Krum showed up-”

“Viktor and I are finished.” She responded shortly. _Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why._

“So, you were actually together?” He asked with mild interest.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What do you think I’m doing out in the middle of Bulgaria?”

“International Dentist’s Convention?” He shrugged so adorably, that Hermione temporarily forgot why she was put out with him.

“Funny one you are. In short, we dated and now we’re not.”

Draco stuck his hands in his pant’s pockets and bristled. Looking ashamed, he murmured, “Pureblood crap?” Hermione only nodded, her eyes downcast as well. “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione tried to stare at her trainers, willing her eyes to stop stinging. It still hurt. She and Viktor were together for six months and he just up and left her because mummy said so? Her thoughts were disrupted when strong arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her in closely. Hermione draped her arms supportively around Draco’s neck. He kissed her forehead and murmured quietly as she fought her tears back into submission.

“Thank you.” She whispered.

“He’s a prick and I’ll never cheer for Bulgaria again. Promise.” Hermione giggled and nuzzled her head into his chest. His shoulders tightened and she remembered his burn. Pulling away from him she took his hand and sat him on her bed.

“Okay, strip. Time for some aloe vera magic.”

 

~

 

Dr. Granger set her book down on the nightstand as she heard the water from the bathroom turn off. Folding her hands in her lap, she looked up at her towel clad husband as he sat down on the bed. “That was mean, you know.”

‘If you can’t have fun poking at a couple of angsty teenagers, when can you have fun?” He was smiling mischievously and she was suddenly worried about what topics of conversation were going to come up at breakfast tomorrow.

“The boy looked like he was going to pass out, dear.”

He rubbed his messy head of hair through a towel and smiled. “Yeah, well I can’t have the boy thinking I’ll go easy on him. It’s good to make boys a little nervous. Honestly, the Krum boy wasn’t nearly nervous enough.”

Rolling her eyes, she threw a throw pillow at her husband. “I can’t believe they thought they were being discreet. They were sitting in the cabbie snogging for at least five minutes.”

“I still can’t believe we pulled up _after_ them and had to loiter in the lobby until they finally showed up.”

“I still have no idea why you insisted we waited.”

“Getting my kicks in my old age, love.” Chuckling the older couple kissed goodnight and went to bed, safe in the knowledge that their daughter knew about protection and that they both took years of mixed martial arts.


	11. Chapter 11: The Demise of Missus Carrot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is mention of a carrot. Also in case anyone in is curious this is taking place during July of 1996. This chapter starts off on July 26, 1995. I have a calendar.
> 
> Thank you to my amazing beta MrsRen, who without, there would be no story!

#  **Chapter 11: The Demise of Missus Carrot**

  

There’s something exhilarating about sneaking around. Something about doing something forbidden and something tantalizing about keeping secrets. Hermione was woke up feeling giddy with excitement, when Draco snuck in for a morning kiss and intoxicated when she went to sleep. You know, from all the snogging.

Hermione ws standing under the pounding water in the shower the night before, wondering why her relationship with Draco felt so… so wild. Viktor was always calm and steady like… she looked up at the water and snorted. Like a river.

Draco was a raging ocean in middle of typhoon season. He was harsh and punishing. His kisses drove her wild and left her begging for more. She wanted to claw her nails up his back and snog him. Hard. Her mind seared for him and only him. It was so bad that even Chef Po had commented on it.

Stepping out of the shower, Hermione mused at her four week vacation in Bulgaria. She spent the first week of July in touching down from the airplane in Bulgaria. It had been a whirlwind of Victor. Everything centered around him, what he was doing and when she could join him. When Viktor had a free moment for _her._

Hermione’s second week in Bulgaria was spent nursing a broken heart and then subsequently getting attacked and hospitalized with Draco. Her third week was still spent mostly indoors, but she and Draco shared their first kiss and that had led the way for a bombshell of a closeout fourth week. They snogged in every corner of the hotel and had Bart cover for them on more than one occasion. It was ridiculous and heart stopping, but it was perfect.

It took until Wednesday for Draco to get itchy for Hermione to take out her bikini again. She giggled as she pulled out a blue tankini. Ginny, being the devil she was, convinced her buy it. The bikini was a gift from her mother. She needed to thank her, properly. That and she wanted to thank her for the white floppy sun hat, her mum lent her. Not that she knew she was lending it.

She heard the door open just as she was tying the strings at her neck. Draco walked up behind her placing feather light kisses on her neck. Hermione smiled and turned around in his arms. “Morning.”

“Hey.” Draco ran a finger across her lip. “Have I mentioned you look good enough to eat in blue?”

Hermione swatted his finger away. “You think I looked good enough to _snog_ in every color.”

“Right you are.” Grabbing her waist, Draco dipped her and kissed her soundly on the mouth. “Now that is how you say good morning.”

Hermione giggled and kissed his neck. “Are you ready? I’ve got the bag of stuff.”

“Please tell me you left half of the room behind, at least half.” He pleaded pathetically.

“I’ll have you know, I only brought cream, water, and two books.” Hermione miffed.

Draco sighed dramatically and threw his arms around her. “Thank Merlin.”

Giggling they walked to the lift with their fingers intertwined. Over the weekend, Draco began to shine. His mask that he always kept up had mostly melted away. At least around Hermione and her parents, he acted like any other young and carefree teenager. They went back to the magician on main street, twice. He laughed along with the other amused pedestrians and he told jokes that made Hermione laugh.

They stepped in the lift and Draco pressed the button for the lobby and Hermione paused at the thought. Draco Malfoy had a sense of humor. No one would believe her. It was too fantastical.

Draco motioned for a cabbie and he held the door open for her as she got in. She smiled at the little things, he did. He opened doors for her, always carried bags, and without a doubt he always let her speak first. He was respectful of her space, so much so that Hermione had to physically put his hand under her shirt.

Hermione leaned her head on his chest, humming contently to herself. Draco liked when he hummed her mother’s nursery rhymes. It was sweet and something Hermione loved about him.

Hermione let herself out of the cab, meeting Draco on his side after the fare was settled. Smiling, the two headed down to the beach.

”It’s a good thing I put cream on before we left the house.” He smirked as he ordered an umbrella and blankets.

“Still mad you did it without me.” Hermione pouted. After smearing the aloe on Draco’s shoulders, Hermione discovered a hidden talent of hers. She gave amazing massages, at least that was what Draco said. He claimed she healed one of his Quidditch injuries. He was being sweet, but also wholly inaccurate. It wasn’t possible to heal a sports injury with a massage, Hermione checked.

They spent the day lounging about the beach, enjoying each others company. There was little they could do other than sit and read, talk, and laugh.

“So, you expect me to believe you made a _house elf_ dress like your little brother and follow you around the whole day and admire you?”

“Hey! I heard that was what little siblings did and it didn’t seem so bad!” Hermione burst into a fit of giggles. Draco rolled his eyes. “Well, it was fun until my mother found out and forced Dobby to keep up the act for a week. A whole week! I had to hide from him! It was ridiculous. He would just show up and copy everything I did and _then_ he started taking my things!”

Hermione wiped a tear from her eye. “Yes, well I just turned a carrot into my pretend little sister. I didn’t start ordering people to follow me about the house and worship me. You deserved the torment.”  

“I still can’t believe your mother cooked your pretend sister.” Draco chuckled. “I mean, what was she thinking! Poor Missus Carrot.”

Hermione bowed her head respectively. “May she rest in peace at the bottom of our full tummies.”

They laughed again. “Did you ever want a brother?” Draco asked.

“Well, Harry is kind of a brother to me, as is Bart.” She conveniently left out Ron. Not because she was confused about her feelings towards him, which sometimes she was, but because Ron was a trigger for Draco.

The two boys genuinely hated each other. Hermione knew that if she and Draco both survived the oncoming war and decided to pursue this relationship, she would lose Ron in the process. There were some losses that people couldn’t come back from and she suspected she and Draco Malfoy dating, was a loss Ronald Weasley would not be able to cope with.

She rubbed her temples. She hated when she stressed herself about variables in the unknown future. It was stressful enough living in the moment, worrying about twenty years in the future was kind of overkill, right?

“I really don’t understand why you feel like you need to spend that much time with Bart.” Hermione’s froze and she backpedaled into the conversation they were having. It was light and fluffy, wasn’t it? “It’s like I’m competing with him.”

“Oh, God.” Hermione choked. No, this was too good to be happening. Despite trying her very best to keep her laughter down, Hermione burst into a fit of giggles. This only enraged Draco.

“Hermione, I’m trying to have an honest conversation with you and you’re laughing at me.” Through Hermione’s tears she was able to see Draco’s arms crossed and a look of extreme annoyance gracing his delicate features. When her laughter did not cease, he picked her chin up with his hand. “I’m getting offended.”

Hermione kissed his lips in between speaking. “Sweet. Jealous. Stupid. Draco. So Stupid. But so sweet.”

Draco drew her back and held her at arm’s length. “Will you bloody tell me why I’m so stupid?”

He didn’t dispute the sweet or jealous, typical Draco. Hermione shrugged out of his hold and then wiped her tears from her eyes.

“Draco, you know Chef Poliakov?”

“The one that makes those lemon tarts you love?”

“Yes, that Chef Poliakov. He’s gay.”

“Well that’s bloody good for him. I thought we were talking about Bart, the woman stealer?”

“We are.”

Draco was silent for several moments. “Oh.”

Hermione kept one tooth firmly biting down on her lip, trying to prevent the giggles that were threatening to erupt from her chest. Realizing she was losing the battle, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Hermione inhaled in a last attempt to stop the laughter climbing up her body in an attempt to escape her body. As she was about to exhale, she felt warm hands glide up her thighs. She stopped abruptly and her eyes flew open. Stormy grey eyes were centimeters from hers and Hermione wondered if she had ever seen anything more beautiful.

Looking into Draco’s eyes were like watching a boat struggle in the stormy sea. You could practically see the struggle, as it crashed against the waves, and fought to stay afloat. Everything you ever wanted to know about Draco, Hermione found in his eyes. Vulnerability, happiness, and more often than not lately, lust.

“Keep biting that lip, Hermione and I may be tempted to help you.”

“Help me with what?” Hermione feigned ignorance, smiling shyly at him. Gently, Draco bit down on her lip. His lips hovering on her’s and then disappearing all too quickly. It left Hermione aching and wanting. “Again.”

Smirking Draco leaned over her and nipped at her lips playfully. Hermione leaned back on her beach towel as Draco followed her down. “I’m going to miss you.” He murmured.Hermione ran her fingers along his jaw. “And I, you.”

Draco kissed each of her fingers and sat up, his legs crossed beneath him. “Want to get some lunch, my Gryffindor princess?”

“Sure would, my Slytherin prince.” Hermione rolled her eyes as he helped her up. She hated being called a princess. “What are you in the mood of today?”

“Something very cold. Maybe we could get ice cream afterwards?” Hermione nodded enthusiastically and the two packed up their things. Once they were done, they walked hand in hand to the boardwalk in search of a cold lunch.

 

~

 

“Must you be drawling all the time Draco? It’s tiring.” She giggled as he pushed her down on the bed in the cabana. The last several days had been spent ocean side and Draco wasn’t sure if there was a better thing in all of the world.

“Tired of my voice already, Hermione?” Draco smirked as he snaked his hands under her beach dress and ran them over her smooth skin.  

“A bit, if I’m being honest.” Hermione blushed and flicked her braid out of her face. Draco had come to realize that Hermione’s hair had one goal, to disrupt her life as much as possible. He couldn’t wait till he was of age and he could cast a permanent sticking charm on it to keep it out of their snogging sessions.

“There are easier way to get me to be quiet.” He whispered, whilst kissing a line up her neck. She clutched onto the blue rugby shirt he was wearing.

“Stay,” his little warrior whispered. “Stay. Don’t go back.”

Hermione started begging him every so often to stay. She reasoned that they could just as easily go to Ilvermorny or another wizarding school. Europe and Hogwarts wasn’t safe for either of them and she wanted to keep him close to her.

Draco so desperately wanted the same, but he couldn’t say so. It would give her false hope. He didn’t have her naivety about out running the big bad wizards. The difference between them was that he knew all about blood wards and magical tracking. Draco knew deep down that there was no way for him to keep her safe, not yet at least. One day. He would learn and study and train. One day he would be able to keep her safe from… from his father if need be.

“It’s not an option, my brave little Madeline.”

“Pooh-Pooh.” She sulked.

“A tiger, am I?” Draco pounced on her inhaling her scent. Memorizing the smell, as if he was etching it into his skin. He never wanted to forget this moment with her in his arms, never wanted to forget any of their moments. He wanted her to stay his forever, here and now.

He kissed her lips softly, dragging his teeth over her lips. Her hair had come loose from the braid and was fanned out on the white sheets below him and he wondered if he would ever tire of seeing her under him, not likely. He looped one finger into a stray curl.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” She whispered. Releasing her curl, he leaned down onto his elbows. Their faces inches apart he looked deep into the honey brown irises as if they held the answers to the universe.

“I’ll think of you every day.” Her lips wobbled.

“Promise?”

“On my life, silly.” She leaned up and kissed him. Keeping his elbows in place, he snaked his arms under her back and pulled her closer to him. She pushed her body against his, as if she was trying to mold them together. He pushed back with equal fervor and determination. They deepened the kiss as her hands ran up his sides, pulling the shirt up with them.

He flipped them over so Hermione was straddling him, reminiscent of the day in the cabbie.

“Just like the cabbie.” She breathed. He smiled as she pulled his shirt off. His swim trunks were uncomfortably tight and her breathing heavy. With purpose, she grinded herself on him. He knew where her body wanted to go but his sweet Madeline wasn’t ready yet. Not for that.

“Hermione, love.”

“Hmmm…” Her eyes were dreamy and dazed. She was looking at him like he was the last person in the world. The only person she wanted to be with. It made Draco happier than he was ready to admit aloud. Hermione noticed he was distracted and she sat up immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yes.”

“Like the night after tomorrow?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the intelligent one?” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Tomorrow night is scrabble night, the same way every Sunday night with my family is scrabble night.”

Draco admired the Granger family’s tenacity for tradition. “Always?”

“With the exception of when I was a newborn, yeah. They started the tradition in college and they never changed it.”

“More like your mum’s too stubborn to change it.”

“My dad and I have actually had this debate and that was our conclusion.” Draco laughed.

“How would you like to skip scrabble night?”

“And what excuse would I have to give for that? I’d have to be dying of typhoid or dragon pox. So which is it?”

“Neither, but I’m sure they would spare you, if you told them you had a date.” Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco was confused. Did she not want to go on an official date with him?

Hermione began to wave her arms around in annoyance. “I was serious when I told you that Bart was gay and I don’t -”

“With me, Hermione.” Hermione froze with one arm dramatically up in the air and the other parallel to her hip. “Would you go on a date with me?”

“A date?” She spluttered.

“Yeah.”

“Like a real date?”

“Hermione -” Hermione jumped off of the bed and kissed Draco fiercely.

“Yes, you idiot. Of course I’ll... oh God, what will I wear?” She began to panic and Draco attempted to calm her down. He never really cared what she wore, why would he start now?

Hermione dug through the beach bag and pulled out her mobile. “Mum. Where are you?”

Draco could hear muffled words on the other line but not much else.

“Ok, leave dad and come pick me up immediately. We need to go now.”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong you ask! Draco just asked me out on a date and I have _nothing_ to wear! I should have brought my beige shoes! Why didn’t I bring my -”

Hermione spent the next minute nodding, followed by several “uh-uhs” and then two “no ways!” She hung up and tossed the mobile back into her bag and began to pack up their beach things.

“Hermione, it’s only three o’clock.”

“Please don’t remind me. I have so much to do. I need new shoes, obviously and probably a dress. Maybe something in green?”

Draco enveloped Hermione in a hug and she immediately ceased her musings. “Hermione, you don’t need to buy a new outfit.”

“But -” Draco kissed her lips.

“Why don’t you wear the Madeline dress we bought, as well as the hat?” Hermione visibly relaxed in his arms. Her shoulders leaned into his chest and he kissed the top of her head. “That’s better. How about we go get a drink from not-in-love-with-you Bart? No panicking?”

Hermione nodded slowly. “No panicking. I can’t be prepared for everything”

“And nor should you be, live in the moment dear.” After picking up their beach bag, Draco draped his arm around Hermione. “Come on, let’s get that drink and see if your parents are willing to get creamed at Scrabble a night early.”

The two arrived at the hotel with their fingers interlocked. Hermione’s parents were sitting on a bench outside of the hotel. Draco noticed her father silently slip several notes into Hermione’s mums pocket.

Draco squared his shoulders. He should have asked Doc’s permission before he asked Hermione out. It was the proper thing to do. As they approached, Draco made up his mind. “Doc, I would like to ask your permis-”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Hermione raged. “I am not a prize! If I want to date someone I will and nothing my daddy, no offense, says will change that.”

“It’s respectful, Hermione.” Draco shot back.

“No, it’s derogatory. It signifies that a woman can’t do anything with a man hovering two feet from her.”

“You know I don’t think that.” Draco sighed. This was going downhill quickly.

“Yes, but it still doesn’t change the fact. I am a woman and I don’t need my dad to decide whether or not I date a person.”

 “What if I don’t want you dating Draco?” Doc asked. He was smiling mischievously and Draco assumed that this was a test of some sort.

“Please, daddy, you’re _thrilled_ and even if you weren’t I’d just set Mum after you.” Hermione and her mother wore matching smirks that, in all honesty, scared Draco a bit.

“Righto, off you two go then.” Doc waved the two of them off. “We’ll be along in a jiff.”

Hermione practically dragged Draco into the lounge and sat down as Bart made them drinks. They sat for a minute, while an oddly quiet Bart leaned on the bar in front of them staring off into the distance.

“Alright Bart, spit it out. Chef Poliakov looks miserable. What happened?” Hermione demanded. Draco sat back and watched as Hermione wheedled the older boy until he caved. He was cleaning glasses as he spoke his voice quivering with fear and anxiety.

“... and now he wants me to move here! He’s talking long term goals… and I didn’t sign up for a long term relationship Hermione! I just came to visit Bulgaria! I don’t want to live here and he’s already designing our apartment, asking when I’m going to move in…” Draco could see Bart panicking.

“Did he mention anything about moving in, in the past?” Hermione and Bart were staring at him with wide eyes. “What? He’s been talking about his love life for the past ten minutes. I can’t ask one bloody question?”

Hermione and Bart ignore his outburst and began to murmur amongst themselves when Bart dropped his glass. “Shite. Hermione, I think I accidentally agreed to move in with him. Bollocks, _I’m_ the reason he’s trying to move the relationship forward.”

Bart starting letting loose a string of impressive curse words before Hermione through a glass of water at him. “Bart. If your boss catches you cursing, he’ll fire you!”

“How the fucking hell am I supposed to stop cursing! I told him I was looking for a new place and rather than _suggest_ a different flat, like a normal person, I’m basically getting married!” Draco and Hermione burst into laughter as Bart banged his head repeatedly on the bar. He continued moaning. “I’m too young to get married!”

“No one’s getting married Bart, calm down. It was just a misunderstanding, explain it to Chef Poliakov and everything will be fine.”

“Will you come with me and be my support system? You know, support me like a good bra?” Draco choked on the drink he was sipping. _Like a good bra?_

“No, because I’ll have you know that Draco and I are going on date tomorrow night.” Bart actually squealed.

“No fucking way. Chef Poliakov owes me a cake. I knew it! Wait, tomorrow night? As in the last night the two of you are here? The night before you go back to your separate lives on different sides of the school? The night- ”

“We know what night it is, thank you.” Draco cut Bart off before he could continue his rant and give Hermione second thoughts.

“Oh God, Hermione please tell me you aren’t going to wear jeans. Please, please don’t wear jeans.” Apparently all it took to distract Bart from his own love life troubles, was to clue him into their love life.

“Nope, I’m going to wear my Madeline dress!” Hermione leaned forward excitedly.

Draco shook his head. “I feel like I shouldn’t be present for this.”

“Hush! You’re spoiling all the details, Draco. So Hermione, are we talking the dress with the sleeves or the-”

“Oh, it’s the dress with the sleeves. I’m just not so sure about the shoes...” Draco drained the rest of his drink and then stood. He kissed Hermione on the head.

“I’m going to go wash up before dinner, while you two finish… whatever this is.” As he hurried away, he looked back to see Hermione giggling and whispering to a smiling Bart. His heart was heavy but also light. Tomorrow night. It was his last night with her, just the two of them. Hopefully, it would also be the first of something else.


	12. Chapter 12: First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco go on their first Date. This is also the last official chapter before the Hogwarts Express! 
> 
> Seriously can't believe I got this far! All creds and thanks go to my AMAZING beta MrsRen! She likes cheesecake snickerdoodles, so if you live in her area bring her some!

#  **Chapter 12: First**

Draco was sitting quietly in the lounge, again. He really should just move his things and take up residence behind the bar at this point. Hermione and her Doctor Granger went out for a spa day. He was man enough to know that Doc had been left behind with him to give him a speech. Draco had been waiting for it, for over an hour. He wasn’t sure if he could wait much longer, his nerves were getting to him.

“Doc, if you have something to tell me please just say it.” He moaned pathetically. Doc looked him over once whilst idly scratching his chin.

“I’m not stupid, Draco.”

“Sir, Hermione and I -”

“I’m not talking about you seeing my daughter. I know there is a war brewing. I know that your  _ side  _ doesn’t want my Hermione part of your world. I know that every moment my little girl breathes in your world, she’s in danger.” Draco was stunned into silence. “There isn’t anything I could do, you see. I could take my family and run, sure. But what happens when your folks find us? My wife and I can’t protect ourselves and Hermione needs more training to protect herself.”

Draco remained silent and let the doctor speak.

“When I was in college, there was a war. It was a war for freedom as much as it was about race. See, as long as there is prejudice we will never truly be free. I fought, just like my dad and his dad did. Sons tend to follow in their father’s footsteps. They like to see them as role models.

“Draco, let me tell you about my father. He was an abusive drunk. He used to work all day in factories and then drink after work. Once he was done drinking, he would beat my mother every night before supper. After supper, she would play the piano for him and then he would drag her upstairs, willing or not, and turn on loud music for hours. I was young but I wasn’t dumb.”

Draco sat frozen in horror. What kind of home did this sweet happy Doc grow up in?

“When I met Hermione’s mum, I knew she was different. For starters, we hated each other. Our hatred brewed from a strong academic rivalry and it wasn’t until our post graduate degree that we both realized that our hatred stemmed from love. Hatred and love, they really are a fine line.” He chuckled softly to himself. “There was a point where we realized we were both serious and she sat me down and asked me what I wanted in life. I told her what my father would do to my mother. Quite honestly, I scared the living shit out of her. Once she was calm, I explained that I never wanted to be like my father and I wanted a woman who would never take crap from me. It was what drove me through medical school. I wanted nothing to do with the man and the life he led.

“I figured, I have a choice. I always have a choice and I have to wake up every day and choose to do the right thing. Sure, I had a temper. It was in the genetics, after all. When I told my fiance about my temper and my fears that were associated with it, she signed us up for martial arts classes. I worked out my pent up frustrations and fears in the dojo. Everyday, I have to  _ choose _ to be calm, to be patient, and to be a different man then the one that raised me. I  _ choose  _ every day to be turn my back on everything I was taught and everything I learnt growing up. I  _ choose  _ to be better.”

Doc, sat up and took Draco’s hand in his. “Draco, you have  _ choices _ . No one can take that from you. Not now, not ever.”  _ Except the Imperius curse, that would take my choice. _

“Draco, I know your parent’s have a path set out for you that isn’t… it isn’t what you want-”

“My father.” Draco croaked. His jaw ached and Draco realized he had been clenching it. “My father’s path, my mother wants nothing to do with any of  _ them. _ ”

Doc nodded in understanding. “Draco, you will always have a home with us. I guess… I just want you to know that you always have options. Always. There is always someone willing to help you when you fall. I -”

Draco looked in alarm as his voice shook and his face fell. “Promise me you won’t hurt her, Draco. Promise me you would never use the… unforgivables.”

So he did know about Imperio.

“Never, Doc. I would protect Hermione with my life. I would never use unforgivables, I…” His wand hand tingled and he looked at Doc with resolution in his heart and determination on his face. “I swear it on my magic and on my love for your daughter.”

Draco could feel the magical bind settle around his core. His magical core twisted and turned at the unexpected pressure added to it. Whether, or not Doc realized it, he just made a magical vow. Something Draco quite literally, could not break.

Doc smiled at him and was about to speak when the door opened. Hermione stood in the doorway in her madeline dress and yellow hat. It wasn’t just that though, her hair was styled like it had been at the Yule ball and she looked… she looked like goddess. All thoughts left his mind other than the beautiful girl standing in front of him.

Tucking a lock of hair nervously behind her ear, she smiled shyly. “Do you like it?”

Draco was already moving to the doorway, her cheeks cupped in his hands. “Beautiful.” He breathed.

He kissed her lips gently, it would have escalated had a clearing of two throats sprang them apart.

“Sheesh, you just finish telling the boy you’ve taken years of martial arts and he thinks it’s okay to snog your baby girl in front of you. Hermione, dear, I thought you said he was bright?” Doc called from behind Draco. Draco stilled in middle of grabbing Hermione’s waist.

“Hush, Dad. We’re going to be late.” She gave her dad a peck on the cheek and her mum a hug before linking her arm in his. Giving one final nod of understand to Doc, he pulled Hermione closer. He smiled softly at her and tugged her along as they left the hotel lobby and stepped out into the night.

Hermione stepped lightly in her beige ballet flats. Her mum had treated her, and her monstrosity of her hair to a salon makeover. It was nice not drowning in your own hair, for once. If Draco’s hands were any indication, he liked it as well.

“So, Draco, where are we going?”

“Nowhere too far. Don’t worry. It’s a -”

“Surprise, I know.” Draco looked a bit nervous. “Don’t worry, Draco, I’m excited.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Smiling, he picked up his pace and the two walked down the cobblestone street. Draco was looking at the doors on the shops nervously. Most of the shops were closed, as it was the evening, and only the restaurants and pubs were still open.

“I didn’t know you had dress clothes with you.” She whispered as they passed under a street lamp. Draco turned to her, his features highlighted by the muted yellow light.

“Uncle Severus sent them.” Hermione laughed.

“I still can’t get used to the fact that Professor Snape is your uncle. Well, I mean he’s not really your uncle, but you know what I mean. What was he like growing up?”

Draco thought for a bit, Hermione thought he forgot her question when he finally responded. “Attentive, I think. He always took great interest in me and whatever I was doing. If I was having a dragon faze, he would take me to the dragon nursery in Wales. When I finally got into quidditch, he took me in the summers to practise on the Hogwarts pitch. He never shoved money at me, he always knew what I wanted and when I wanted it.”  _ Unlike his parents. _

“He sounds special to you.”

“He is. He’s one of the people I trust most in the world. He warned me before I came to Hogwarts that he was strict in the classroom. It was a shock, to be honest.” Hermione smiled thoughtfully.

“You know if you think about it, he has the most dangerous subject. If he wasn’t attentive, any one of us could be seriously injured. I mean, Seamus is constantly setting his cauldrons on fire and Neville melted more cauldrons then he owned last year.”

“Crabbe is constantly blowing his cauldron up but he has somehow managed to master a containment and silencing spell. It’s a miracle really, he hasn’t mastered much else.”

“That’s mean. Isn’t Crabbe your friend?”

“Ally more like, I had all of my ‘friends’ picked out for me before I attended school. My parents were worried I would make friends with the wrong sort.”

“If only they could see you now.” Hermione snorted, looking down at their intertwined fingers.

“I reckon, my father would have a stroke and my mother would cry.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Your parents are dramatic.” Draco laughed.

“My parents are dramatic? I saw your dad cry when we left.”

“He’s emotional!”

“He was crying into your mum’s shoulder, Hermione.” Hermione raised her hands in defeat. Her parents were a tad dramatic.

“They miss out on a lot of my firsts, since I’m at Hogwarts all year.”

“That must be hard for them.”

“It is. They send tons of letters though. Also magazine and stuff, my roommates love it.” Draco squeezed her hand. He had given her a lot of advice for the coming year on how to deal with the other girls in her room. She hated that everyone thought of her as the person who would do their homework for them. She wanted to just be Hermione, plain old Hermione.

“It’s at the end of the block.”

At the very edge of the block was a charming restaurant. The walls were all glass and it was undisputedly french. The small linen covered tables were mostly seated except for one or two dotting the room. Small little candles dotted the low lit restaurant, giving it a close but romantic feel.

Draco gave his name to the maitre de, who brought them to a secluded table in the corner with a sign that read, ‘ réservé.’ Draco pulled back Hermione’s chair and guided her into the seat with one hand. After pushing her in, he settled into his own chair and drew his menu with a flourish.

“Draco, I don’t speak French.” Hermione was a bit unsettled. Her parents had been begging her for years to learn the language but she never had time.

“That’s alright, I’ll translate it for you.” He did. Every single thing on the menu. He also gave his opinion on certain dishes and he was glad when Hermione asked him for his recommendation.

The waiter, a dark haired fellow appeared just as they settled on their dishes.

“What can I get for the mademoiselle?”

“I’ll have the bouillabaisse, please.”

“And for the monsieur?”

“The coq au vin, please send both of our dishes with a wine pairing.”

“Of course. We will send appetizers, while you wait.” The waiter left. Draco reached his hand over the table and Hermione slipped her fingers into his.

“I can’t believe it’s barely been a month.”

“I know, it feels so much longer.” His grey eyes were focused on their fingers.

“I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time with anyone. You know, besides my parents.” Draco laughed and lifted his eyes to hers.

“I’m going to miss you every day.”

“Me too. We’ll see each other on the express, you know.”

“It won’t be the same. We’re on opposite ends of this war. I’m… I’m -” Draco’s voice broke and Hermione hushed him. This was starting to feel like goodbye. She didn’t want to say goodbye, they had barely said hello to this relationship. It was new and exciting and she wanted to see where it went.

“I  _ know  _ Draco and it’s okay.”

“How can you be okay?”

“Because I have faith. I know that you’re a good person, you just have to believe it.” He blinked rapidly and Hermione could see his eyes shine in the low light. She squeezed his fingers affectionately.

“That’s more, or less what Doc told me today.”

“Did he give you the choices speech?”

“Yeah, it was intense.” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Intense? How is a carnival and choosing between rides and games intense?”

“I don’t think we got the same speech.”

“Oh.”

“I’m going to miss this, our talks. Studying together or sitting on the beach together.” Hermione smiled wryly. “Basically, everything we do together.

“Like snogging?”

“How did I forget that one?”

“You’re getting all sentimental on me. No, no. Don’t you dare, stop. I like it. It means that you trust me as much as I trust you.”

“You trust me?” Draco asked in awe.

“More than I reckon is healthy.”

Draco sighed. “I wish things were different.”

“Me too, but I might not have ever met you. So I guess, selfishly, I’m glad that they aren’t.”

“You’re glad I was attacked by a homicidal maniac, apparated myself across borders, and splinched myself?” Draco asked in mock disbelief. Hermione smacked his shoulder playfully.

“Everything, but the splinching bit, but honestly, I still can’t believe you apparated yourself! It’s so impressive, I mean we aren’t due to start learning -”

“If you don’t stop I’m going to kiss you quiet and that old todgy couple over there might have a heart attack.” Draco flicked his head towards an older couple that were eyeing their hands with distaste.

“Rude. I’m tempted to start snogging you across the table now.”

“Are you?”

“I am. Keep this up and that couple will be getting a show befitting my dramatic heritage.” Draco snorted and withdrew his hand as the waiter approached with their plates. Hermione hadn’t even noticed the appetizers sitting untouched on the table.

Sitting straight and practicing her carefully taught etiquette, Hermione placed the cloth napkin in her lap and ate. They were silent for several moments as Hermione appreciated how utterly delicious her chicken was. She was definitely going to convince her mum to make this.

“How are you enjoying the coq au vin?”

“It’s delicious and the bouillabaisse?”

“Good.”

“Just good?” She teased. Draco looked around and whispered.

“The Malfoy extended family in France make it better, although they are living  _ in  _ France.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Do they have a manor as well?”

“It’s more of a chateau, really.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No,” Draco replied, clearly affronted. “The chateau is a flat compared to the manor. The grounds alone… You were teasing me weren’t you?”

Hermione smiled. “A bit, yeah.”

Draco huffed and sipped his wine. Hermione chuckled. “Draco, you’re such a child sometimes.”

“In a good way?”

“The best.” She smiled. She enjoyed these little moments with Draco. When they could tease each other and make each other laugh. Their squabbles never lasted long, as did their tempers. She felt like Draco made her more steady on her feet, more confident. He never held her back or said she couldn’t do something and he was a gentleman. That was rare enough, these days.

Not that Viktor wasn’t a gentleman, but it was different. With Viktor, Hermione always felt like he liked her more than she liked him. He always showed a polite interest in her academia, but he never followed up with questions or debated with her. The same went for her interest in his chosen career. Looking at Draco sitting opposite her, she and Viktor would not have lasted.

They didn’t talk as much as they snogged and their snogging was nowhere near what it was like with Draco. When Hermione kissed Viktor it was like a tepid shower. It was still a good shower and she enjoyed it but it wasn’t hot. It was innocent and sweet.

Draco was a scalding shower, burning her skin and leaving marks behind for hours. She couldn’t get enough of him when they were together and she craved more of him when she was alone in her room at night. He was amongst her last thoughts when she fell asleep and one of her first thoughts when she woke up.

At first she thought she was being unhealthily obsessive, but her mother had informed her today, it was entirely normal. How did people date while at Hogwarts? How did people date during O.W.L year or, heaven forbid, N.E.W.T year?

“Hermione?” Hermione attention snapped back to Draco. “I lost you there, for a moment. Where did you go?”

“I was wondering how people date during O.W.Ls. It’s so… distracting.” Draco chuckled.

“Thinking of me at night are you?”

“Yes.” Hermione answered simply.

“I really want to ravish you right now.” He whispered, whilst brushing his thigh against hers under the table.

Hermione shivered and smiled. “Did you want dessert, or…”

Draco motioned for the waiter and asked for the check. Hermione smiled. She wondered if there was a bench under a lamp post she could snog him under, all night if need be. She could sleep on the plane tomorrow. Mind you the flight was under three hours, but she managed with less.

Draco paid and to his visible relief, Hermione didn’t argue with him about the bill. He stood and helped her from her chair. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” They left the restaurant with their pinkies interlocked. “Fancy a bit of a walk?”

“I could be easily convinced.”

“And how might one go about easily convincing you of such a thing?”

Draco smirked and yanked her into an alleyway. Hermione stumbled after him and felt her back hit the brick wall of the backside of the restaurant they had just been sitting in. Hermione’s hat fell from her head and onto the cobblestone beside them. It was forgotten fairly quickly, when Draco cupped his hands under her arse and descended his mouth onto hers. He tasted almost zesty, with a combination of peaches.

Hermione moaned into his mouth and wrapped her legs around his waist, just above his hips. Her hands snaked around his neck, pulling him closer to her. One of Draco’s hands snaked up into her hair angeling her head upwards, so he could kiss her deeper. His tongue swirled around her mouth expertly and Hermione wondered if she would burst just from his oral ministrations.

He bucked up against the juncture between her legs and Hermione whimpered into his mouth. She always needed more when she was with him, more than he was ever willing to give her. Apparently she was, ‘special.’ Right now, she didn’t want to feel special. She wanted to feel dirty and naughty and do things that would make her friends blush and get her a lifetime of detention.

“Please don’t tease me, Draco.” She moaned. He stopped bucking into her immediately.

“Shit, I’m sorry. We’re going too far.”

“I know. That’s why -” Draco recaptured her lips and kissed her hard enough to bruise.

“I can’t live without you, Hermione.”

“I don’t want to live with you, Draco.”

“I don’t know if I’ll even be alive to go to Hogwarts in the fall, Hermione. We can’t cross that line. Not yet, not when there’s -” Hermione kissed his lips gently.

“I know. It’s why I don’t want you to go home.”

“Uncle Severus will protect me. I know he will.”

“Good, I’ll know who to hunt down if I don’t see you on the platform on September first.” Hermione smiled. Draco removed his hand from her hair and slowly lowered her down onto the floor. Confused she looked up at Draco.

“You won’t be able to speak to me on the platform. We have to pretend to be strangers, Hermione. He has spies everywhere. We can’t… if he found out…” Draco looked absolutely terrified.

“I’m not afraid of him.” Hermione said defiantly.

“I know. It’s what keeps me up at night.” Draco whispered so quietly that Hermione thought she imagine it.

“I keep you up at night?”

“Almost every night. You’re a conundrum, Hermione Granger.”

“How so?” Draco leaned into her hair and whispered into her hair, his breath tantalizing on her ear.

“You’re  _ supposed  _ to be repulsive, slow, and ugly. You… you’re anything but, you beguile me Hermione Granger.” Draco bit the edge of her ear and Hermione bit down any noises that were threatening to come from her.

“Draco… I…”

“Merlin, the things I dream about with you.” He whispered. Hermione nipped at his lips. “We need to give ourselves some space, Hermione or we’re going to cross a line -”

“What if I want to cross the line?” Hermione declared boldly. Was she really ready to cross  _ the  _ line? Was she ready for that? Where would they even do it? Did Draco know what to do?

“You aren’t ready, my dear brave, Hermione.”

“I want to be. I want to be ready with you.” Hermione felt small, her voice smaller.

“It’s okay, not to be ready Hermione. I don’t want to rush us.”

“But what if -”

“Let’s think positively, okay? If we both make it to September first, I’ll find a way to signal you on the train or after the feast, okay? I’ll send you a note or something.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Now, I believe you are wearing dancing shoes, and there is dancing by the pier. Care for a twirl?” It was passed eleven and Hermione knew her parents were waiting up, but they also trusted Draco and that said a lot.

“Of course.” Draco took her hand and twirled her around him. She smiled as he tugged her into his arms for a hug and then a kiss. They could stay up all night dancing if they wanted to, they could do anything they wanted to. Tonight, at least.

 

~

 

Hermione’s bags were packed and she was sitting on top of them. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave. Last night was… magical and that was coming from someone who could do magic. They finally came back to the hotel sometime after four in the morning. Her parents were already sleeping and Draco had bid her goodnight at her door, like the gentleman he was, before returning to his own room for the night. 

Hermione spent a half an hour dreaming about him in the shower, before getting in her pajamas and snuggling into bed. She was wearing the rugby jersey he wore the day before, she had filched it from his room while he was out searching for restaurants earlier that morning. She planned on sleeping in it until she was back at Hogwarts and could see him, almost every day.

“If you keep sitting there, you are going to miss breakfast.” Draco said from the doorway.

“I know. I don’t want you to go, Draco.” Draco walked over and sat down on the floor next to her. She motioned to him and then her. “I don’t want to lose this.”

He picked up one of her clenched fists and kissed it. “Me neither, but we can’t not go back. My family would come looking for me and you aren’t safe with any of them. Potter and the Weasleys would come looking for you.”

He kissed her other hand and tucked a wayward curl back into place. “I will miss you everyday. Promise me you’ll think of me? Promise me you won’t forget me.”

Draco eyes were as wet as hers, when he pulled her into his lap. Hugging her tightly, his hands crept into her hair and he kissed her deeply with more emotion and feeling than he had ever exhibited. “I promise. Everyday, as long as it is safe. Promise me you won’t run off with the ginger, okay? I’ll have to kill him and then I’ll go to Azkaban and by the time you wisen up and come to your senses, I’ll be rotting for life in prison.”

“Oh tosh. I’ll just break you out.”

“No one’s ever broken out of Azak- oh wait, Sirius Black did. We’re related actually.”

“Really? He never mentioned it.” Draco balked. Shit, she probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. “What? He’s Harry’s godfather.”

“Potter has a serial killer as a godfather?”

“Stop that, he didn’t actually murder any of those people. Sirius is a nice person, a bit rough about the edges, but really nice. He bought Harry a firebolt for his birthday. Also, I know how he escaped Azkaban so don’t worry, I’ll break you out.”

Draco looked at her with such shock, that Hermione giggled. “You’re telling me that Sirius Black escaped prison and  _ bought Potter a firebolt _ ?!”

Hermione burst into laughter at Draco’s fury. Her humor only seemed to make him more angry and Hermione kissed his cheek to make it better.

“Okay, enough you two. Breakfast is almost over. Come have a bite to eat, we both have a lot of travelling to do today.” Called Mum from the door.

Draco lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Promise you won’t cry over me? Cry over Bart, but promise you won’t cry over me. Not ever.”

Hermione kissed him, but he wouldn't let her go until she promised. So she did.

 

~

 

Draco sat on his bed packing all of his things into the small bag Uncle Severus had sent for him. He looked at his things and wondered what he should pack and what he should leave. If he had it his way, he would stay and never leave. He sighed and moved over to his mountain of things. His coins and notebooks from the museum, odds and ends from their trips to the beach, and a bead from Hermione’s purple bikini.

His fingers traced over the Madeline book that Hermione had brought him. It was a lifeline, a tether. He was going to need the book about the brave little girl who was an orphan. The girl who was taken in and cared for, in sickness and in health. When she was misbehaving or when she was kind, Miss Clavell never threw her out of the house covered in vines. He picked up the book and imagined another life.

_ “Good morning Draco, I’m baking want to join me?” Hermione was standing in the kitchen her swollen belly obstructing her view of the splatter of flour on the floor. Draco waved his wand and cleaned the mess up. He was shirtless and his arms were clear of any blemishes. _

_ “We have to get dressed Hermione, we have dinner at your Mum’s.” _

_ “That’s at eleven, love.” _

_ “It’s ten fifteen.” Hermione cursed as she handed Draco his morning latte. She raced up the stairs of their small cottage into their bedroom. Draco followed her lazily as she threw things from their closet onto the floor. _

_ “Where are my shoes?” _

_ “Hermione, it’s your mum and dad. They won’t mind if we’re late.” _

_ “It’s the principle of the matter. Draco, where is my hat? Have you seen my hat?” Draco set his drink down on a light blue dresser. He walked up behind Hermione who was looking inside a closet for her shoes. Kissing the edge of her shoulder, he murmured in her ear. _

_ “I love you, Hermione.” _

_ Hermione stilled and leaned back into him. She turned her head upwards and smiled at him. “I love you too, Draco.” _

_ He leaned down, kissing her lips gently. “When was the last time you had your shoes?” _

_ “When I went to work on Friday.” She was breathing heavily, so was he. Even after years of a relationship together, he still got breathless just at the sight of her. _

_ “Didn’t you leave them at the door?” She smiled and kissed his cheek before dashing to the door. He looked down at his pocket smiling at the square bulge he knew was there. Today was an important visit to Granger’s parents. Today was the day he asked Doc permission to take her from under his wing and officially take Hermione under his. _

_ Doc knew it was coming, he had hinted at several weeks earlier. Hermione’s mother even gave him her great aunt Betsy’s ring. He patted his pocket thoughtfully. He was ready. They were both ready. Draco smiled at himself in the mirror. _

_ “Draco, are you ready to go?” Hermione called from the bottom of the stairs. _

_ “Yes!” He called back. He looked into the mirror and whispered to himself. “Wish me luck, Draco.” _

_ He walked down the stairs and reached for Hermione’s hand. _

The rest of the day dream dissolved as Draco felt something foreign slide down his cheek. Lifting his hand, he touched the moisture running down the planes of his face. Dream Hermione and Draco were so happy and carefree. Putting his eyes into his hands he let the tears fall. He let the tears fall for the small cottage he could never have, for the girl he could never have, and the adulthood he most likely would not live to see. Even if he did live to see it, Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to be the person that would come out on the other end.

It took several moments to calm down and when he did, he tucked the Madeline book away in his clothes. He placed his composition notebooks, as well as the rest of his things with them. Lastly, he placed the bead through a string and hung it around his neck. Draco would take his strength from Hermione. He would ask Severus to help him shield his mind, so no one could see his memories of her. So, he could protect her.

It didn’t take long for Draco to pack the rest of his clothes, he noticed some of his shirts were noticeably absent. He assumed they were in Hermione’s trunk. He sat on his bed and waited. A glance at the clock, informed him that Uncle Severus wouldn’t be long. His godfather was always punctual.

Draco closed his eyes and hummed to himself. Doctor Granger’s nursery songs were so ingrained in him, they were practically in his blood. He was so engrossed in his song that he didn’t hear Severus apparate into the room. He didn’t see him walk up to him with his wand drawn, or hear the spell he cast until it was too late. ****


	13. Chapter 13: The Hogwarts Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco go home and learn what they have missed over the summer. This is the last chapter (or is it?) where Hermione and Draco learn what was going on in the UK over the summer. This fic ends on September first at the train.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with this story this long and I appreciated every kudos and comment! Finally, thanks to my amazing beta MrsRen. This story would not exist without her and I couldn't be more thankful. Love you girl!

#  **Chapter 13: The Hogwarts Express**

Draco sat at the long elegant table. The table was laiden with carnations of violets and valerian and glowing gold candelabras, atop an ivory spun table runner. Diamonds floated above the table, their crystalline light refracting all over the room giving it a light and bright feel. Draco knew the room was anything but.

His mother was dressed in an elegant dinner gown in deep green with gold leafs adorning the bodice. His mother wore green only in certain circles. She hated the color and much prefered blues or solitary blacks. She was talking to someone on her left, a firm polite mask obscuring her true emotions. Her occlumency shields were firmly in place, just as everyone else at the table.

His own occlumency shields were as neat as his windsor tie knot in his three piece suit. His legs were crossed elegantly at the ankle as he sat back with a glass of firewhiskey. His robes sat protectively on his shoulders. He desperately wished for one of Bart’s drinks or anything that didn’t burn a third lung as it went down.

Her riotous of curls and easy smile floated on the edge of his mind. It wasn’t safe. He couldn’t think of her, not here. He tamped down on her image, concentrating on the yellow hat. The ribbon that was tied around the base of it and then tied into a bow in the back. When the wind would blow the black ribbon would shake in the wind.

“Draco, son. You seem distracted, do you not like the soup?” Draco wasn’t stupid enough to think his father was actually talking about the soup. He looked around the table at the faces, some new and some old, before he spoke.

“Merely enjoying the presence of our distinguished guests.” He drawled.

 

 _“Must you drawl all the time Draco? It’s tiring.” She giggled as he pushed her down on the bed in the cabana._  
_“Tired of my voice already, Hermione?” she blushed._  
_“A bit, if I’m being honest.”_  
_“There are easier way to get me to be quiet.” he whispered kissing a line up her neck. She clutched onto his shirt._  
_“Stay,” she whispered. “Stay. Don’t go back.”_  
_“It’s not an option, my brave little Madeline.”_

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15086723/chapters/36845961/edit#

 

Yellow hat. Ribbon. Flutter in the wind.

Scattered laughter could be heard from around the table.

“Just like you at that age.” Laughed Crabbe Senior. Goyle’s father agreed with his friend, wholeheartedly.

“My son is… eager for the cause.”

_No no no no._

“Cause, father?” Draco asked innocently. His father looked around the table and smiled at the excited faces around him. Well, mostly excited faces, save one.

His mother’s face was a mask of fake pleasantness, her hands folded politely in her lap. She had barely spoken to anyone this evening and her food and drink remained untouched. As one, his father and their guests raised their glasses. Dread filled Draco and he begged out silently.

 _Don’t do this. I’m your_ **_son_** _. You love me. Please don’t do this me._

“Welcome to the brotherhood, my son.” He said proudly.

 

**~**

  
Hermione exited the Floo after Mr. Weasley. They had taken no less than nine separate Floo’s before they arrived at their final destination. Wearing a hole in the rug in front of the fireplace was a familiar bundle of bright ginger hair and freckles. A smile creeped up her cheeks as she took in the haphazard maroon sweater with an R on it.

Her best friend was muttering to himself, his eyes downcast. He was still pacing, when Hermione noticed his hand was tightened around his wand and his face contort with anxiety.

“Ron!” Ronald Weasley’s eyes met Hermione’s and all of the worried creases in his eyes ceased immediately. His arms outstretched, he turned to her. Hermione rushed into her best friends warm arms. He hugged her tightly and she him. Hermione breathed in deeply, she could smell spearmint toothpaste, Quidditch, and Ron. Unlike previous summers, she had deeply missed Ron. She missed his wise counsel, his cheer, and his constant nagging to play Quidditch or Wizarding chess. She missed one of her two best friends.

“I missed you!” Her voice was muffled from within his chest. Ron had grown a couples of inches over the summer and Hermione had to look up to see his face. The Floo warning went off as Mr. Weasley came through. They separated, Ron’s face red as a tomato.

“We’re glad to have you back, Hermione!” came a voice from behind her. Hermione turned to see Sirius standing in the doorway. She gave him a quick hug, where he patted her head paternally.

“Welcome!” He called from the hallway as her friend’s godfather took off. Hermione followed him with Ron at her heels.

“To what? And where am I?” Before Sirius could answer a loud scream punctured the otherwise silent hallway. Hermione had her wand out and a shield charm dancing on her lips, read to shield herself and Ron. No one else bothered to move.

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Mudbloods! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers! I have half a mind to-" Sirius shot a spell towards what looked like the front door and the hallway went silent.

“Well Hermione, seems as if my mother doesn’t like you very much.” He chuckled. Hermione looked around in shock. This was Sirius's home? His mother was alive? Didn’t he leave home when he was sixteen because he hated his parents?

“Don’t take it personally, Mione. Old Walburga’s portrait doesn’t like anybody. Racist devil that she is.” Ron put in quickly.

“You missed her in her prime.” Muttered Sirius. “Peachy, was what she was.”

Sirius led them into a eating area. He settled into a seat at the head of the table, as tea poured itself, while Hermione and Ron stood by. He was adding his sugars, when Hermione couldn’t take it anymore.

“Where are we Sirius? I mean I realize it’s your home, but why are we here? Why are the Weasleys here and not in the Burrow? What’s going on?”

Sirius looked up from his tea and smiled. “Welcome to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.”

 

**September 1, 1995**

Hermione looked around Platform 9 ¾’s. Harry had just hurried off to say goodbye to Sirius and Hermione was trying not to look for his blonde hair on the platform. He would have charmed away any of his tan by now, getting rid of any hint that they spent time together this summer. She was scared she would see him and everyone would know right away. They would see the emotion she was desperately trying to hide written clearly on her face.

Harry emerged from the side room he was talking to Sirius in. Harry was happier around his godfather and Hermione was happy Harry had him. She wanted Harry to be happy. She wanted Ron to stand out from his brothers and she wanted to be able to walk down the hallway with Draco’s hand in hers.

She wanted not to be shunned for her blood and she wished more than anything else that, if they had to be in a war, that at least they would be on the same side of the war. At the exact moment Harry moved to stand by her side, Draco and his parents emerged through the Floo entrance of Kings Cross. Painfully, Hermione tore her eyes away from him and turned to Harry.

“Let’s board the train, yah?” Harry asked.

Ron helped her with her trunk and they boarded the train. Hermione doing everything not to look back as she felt grey eyes stare through her back and into her soul.

“We got a compartment, Hermione!” Ron called. Hermione nodded that she was coming. As she scurried in Ron’s direction, she noticed Lisa Turpin standing in the doorway of a compartment. Lisa was a study partner from Ravenclaw.

“Hermione! Did you start revising for O.W.-” Hermione didn’t hear what else she said, as she was roughly pushed from the side.

“Madeline.” Her blood stopped as the tender voice she had grown used to whispered in her ear.

“Look at that, Mudbloods crowding the corridors, next thing they’ll be hogging the bathroom’s as well.” Draco Malfoy sneered loudly. Hermione looked at him nervously and nodded. She understood.

He walked off, Crabbe and Goyle snickering at his heels. Lisa helped Hermione up, muttering about obnoxious prats. After a bit of talking about their revision schedule, Hermione made her excuses and made for the loos. Naturally, the loos were both occupied when Hermione arrived. After a quick glance around she made to head back to the compartment she would be sharing with Ron and Harry.

She had only taken a step, when the door of the loo flew open and she was yanked inside the bathroom. Hermione’s eyes barely had time to adjust to the dim lighting in the bathroom when firm lips were pressed against hers.

Hermione’s hands threaded into Draco’s hair as he pushed her back up against the sink, hoisting her onto it. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she deepened their kiss. He groaned when her body pressed against his and tightened his grip on her thighs. Hermione smiled devilishly. Breaking for air, Hermione kissed a slow line down his neck.

“I missed you.”  He murmured. Hermione smiled at him.

“I missed you too, Draco. Mum and dad send their love.” Draco beamed.

“I have something for you.” Hermione raised an eyebrow as he produced a small white cardboard box. “It’s not something, like, well… just open the box.

Lifting the cover, she smiled as the fresh smell of lemon tart with raspberries filled the bathroom. Hermione kissed Draco’s lips. He produced two spoons and he slowly fed her lemon tart between kisses. When it was done, he kissed her lips tenderly for the last time.

“It’s going to be a long year, Hermione.” Draco kissed Hermione, as she rested her head on his shoulders.

“We’ll manage, I think. I mean, I know I don’t need to revise as much-” Draco kissed her roughly affectively cutting her rant off, whilst simultaneously running his hands through her wild hair.

Draco leaned against her forehead. “You need to be careful this year. My father says the Ministry will be involving itself heavily in the school year. Don’t give them a reason to single you out. They’re scared and that makes them dangerous.”

Hermione nodded before biting her lip. “Ron and Harry are going to come looking for me.”

“I know. Please be safe.” Draco hugged her tightly. Hermione pushed herself off of the bathroom sink and attempted to straighten her clothes. “I… umm…” Draco blushed adorably. “I’m sending you something for your birthday on the nineteenth. I’m sending it to your room… and umm.. I hope you like -”

Hermione placed a gently hand on his cheek to stop his rambling. “You didn’t have to get me anything Draco, but thank you. I know I’ll love it.”

With one final kiss, Hermione left the loo and hurried back to her compartment with Ron and Harry. She felt flushed and on a high. Everything she associated with Draco. Happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, heads up. There's going to be a part 2, but I'm not working on it until November. I'm trying to finish all my posted stories so that I can start posting all of my new stories. I have about eight or nine sitting, that are mostly if not halfway completed. Two are not Harry Potter but the rest are. I also have another story posted in a fest that should be unveiling any day now and I'm super excited about that one. 
> 
> I'll post a notification on this story when i start the next part, so y'all can stay updated when I'm ready to post. Don't forget to subscribe to get the notification.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> -Chefke


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